#little do you know we have 13 more hours of this...

[drywatermelon]

Songs that start with the same-enough intro

1) Paradise

by rude-a

2) WANTED

by SHINee

3) Runaway Baby

by Bruno Mars

[vaguely-concerned]

trying to look for a ttrpg group in spaces where I can't just go 'listen I want to play this shit in the tumblr fandom kind of model (gay subtext extremely welcome bordering on essential, mutual unhinged character psychoanalysis, we could create a novel of a backstory together to make this sadder, let's all play with our OC dolls together and also sometimes dice are rolled I guess)' and be readily understood and/or not be immediately side-eyed or denigrated for my inherent unavoidable tumblerinaness feels like such an annoying debuff to deal with on the quest. like I know my people exist out there but how do I express myself in the right way and wade through all the copious not-it (not for me) dynamics to find them!!!

[avocado-frog]

how am i supposed to live laugh love under these conditions

tldr for tags my mom found an old journal of mine and read through it so i accidentally outed myself to her lols

[angelfic]

theodore nott x reader

warnings — kissing, kinda pg-13, mentions of drinking/smoking the usual stuff blah blah etc etc

a/n; truly thought another theo fic written by me would never see the light of day but here we are <3 this was meant to be a tiny drabble btw I hate myself!!!! NOT PROOFREAD!

THEODORE NOTT is shy.

he doesn’t understand why people find him intimidating. well, actually, that’s not completely true. he knows that people avoid him when he’s with his friends because they’re doing stupid shit like when enzo and draco are hexing each other for fun. or when mattheo starts scrapping out in the corridor because someone looked at him wrong and blaise is egging him on.

and, okay, maybe theo will jump in at some point too. in his defence, it’s only when the other guy’s friend starts in on him first.

but his friends aside, theo doesn’t understand why people think he’s intimidating when he’s by himself. it’s not his fault his resting face is daunting.

he wishes he could change it sometimes. girls will still come up to him at parties in the common room once he’s had a couple of drinks, but at the risk of becoming an alcoholic, he can’t be that loose all of the time.

theo wishes more than ever that he could cast some sort of spell on himself when you talk to him. you share a few classes, much to theo’s delight, but it’s not like he’s taking advantage of the fact.

every time you speak to him, his brain short circuits and he feels like a piece of muggle technology being fried by the wards of hogwarts. sometimes it’ll be something small like when you ask him to pass over the pot of lacewing flies in potions and he just stares at you.

“uhm, we’ve run out of them on our table,” you explain after a few seconds of silence, giving him a little smile. you point to the ingredients and raise your brows. “so…?”

he knows for a fact that his face is set in a blank expression that probably looks pissed off, especially when he catches sight of your friend at the table next door who practically looks concerned for your safety.

but his ears are burning and he feels like someone’s electrocuted him when he finally hands over the pot without looking at you and your finger brushes against his for a nanosecond.

“thanks,” you say, sincerely, a smile still gracing your lips as he offers you a stiff nod. you act as though you just had a completely normal interaction and it has theo stressing out because what if you see right through him?

another time, you’re late to history of magic and there are two seats left. one near the front and the other next to theo. you rush over and take out your things, barely registering who you’re sitting with, but theo is hyper-aware. no one ever willingly sits next to him aside from his friends.

once you’re settled, it appears that the rush of being late has left you quickly due to the monotone voice of professor bins and instead you’re fighting to stay awake. theo would know, since he keeps throwing glances your way.

at one point professor binns drones on about known cases of dragon pox and when he starts to list the symptoms, including a green and purple rash, theo mutters under his breath to mattheo, “much rather that than having to sit here for another bloody hour.”

his eyes flick over to you, surprised when you let out an unexpected snort of laughter. mattheo, having fallen asleep on his desk unbeknownst to theo, is oblivious to theo’s comment. instead, you’re the one covering your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from laughing too hard and theo physically can’t stop his lips from quirking up. he made you laugh.

later that day, he overhears your friend apologising for not saving you a seat in class. “i can’t believe you went and sat next to nott. i’m surprised he didn’t tell you to piss off.”

you immediately shush her, and your next words make him feel like he just ran a marathon. “i still don’t know what you mean. he’s nice… and funny,” you say simply, shrugging.

he repeats the words in his head over and over until the next time you talk to him, which happens to be at a party in the slytherin common room.

outside the party, actually. theo goes to sit right outside the common room entrance with his cup and a cigarette, partly to smoke and partly to get away from some of the girls who were flocking to him and his friends after they had all had a few drinks.

he’s exhaling a puff of smoke right as you’re quietly exiting the party to take a seat next to him and as soon as he spots you, he accidentally inhales the smoke the wrong way and coughs.

“sorry,” he mutters, waving the smoke away before it can go near you. he feels stupid and decides to just dump the thing into his cup before setting it aside. alcohol makes him looser, but it doesn’t make him completely immune to you.

“it’s fine,” you smile, crossing your legs as you settle on the ground next to him. “how come you’re out here every time there’s a party?”

“too loud,” he explains, letting his head rest against the wall as he starts to feel the buzz kicking in. “that, and to get away from all my adoring fans of course.”

this makes you laugh and theo, in his tipsy state, adorns a lazy grin at the sound, not bothering to hide that he’s looking at you.

“i don’t think there was a single girl who didn’t try chatting you or your friends up in there,” you shake your head, amused.

theo swallows, noticing the way you’re fiddling with the hem of your dress and he wonders if it bothers you. he blames the vodka for making him so bold when he says, “you and your friends didn’t.”

“my friends are scared of you,” you reply, raising your eyebrows as if to ask him if he’s surprised. “they think you’re always glaring at me.”

“nah,” he mumbles, looking at you through slightly hooded eyes. the dimly lit corridor makes your skin glow in a way that has him feeling a bit in awe, and he finds himself blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. “have they considered i’m staring at you because i think you’re fit?”

he promptly wants to punch himself in the face.

weirdly enough, you don’t look taken aback. you tilt your head as if pleasantly surprised, and your lips quirk up into the ghost of a smirk. “i have to say that explains a lot.”

“how so?” he asks, hesitant to know your answer. his heart stutters when you move closer to him and get up slightly to crouch beside him. your fingers reach out to tuck some of his hair behind his ear and he freezes, utterly still.

“well,” you say softly, a teasing glimmer in your eyes. “every time you speak to me the tips of your ears turn pink.”

and then you get up and leave and theo thinks his face has gone numb. he doesn’t remember much else from that evening, but the next morning his friends are asking him why he looks like he wants to kill someone.

he doesn’t know how to tell them that the someone he’s wanting to kill is himself for telling you he thinks you’re fit.

channeling the embarrassment into something useful, he tries to focus all his energy on the quidditch match he’s in against ravenclaw.

it goes by in a blur and somehow they’ve won, and theo thanks his lucky stars that they have because draco would surely have killed him for throwing the match due to being distracted.

the others run off quickly to the common room to celebrate, and theo tells them he’ll be right there, allowing himself to linger in the changing rooms for some peace and quiet before the inevitable celebrations.

“hey.”

he spins around, still in uniform with sweat dampening his hair and his green eyes fall on you in surprise. “uh. hi. what are you doing here?” he asks, uncertainly after the events of the night before. he hopes to Godric his ears are covered right now.

“just came to congratulate you,” you say with a playful smile.

theo’s brows furrow and his shoulders involuntarily slump slightly. he isn’t sure what he expected you to say, but it wasn’t that. “oh.”

you push yourself off the doorframe and enter the room, slowly walking closer to him. he’s never been more grateful for deodorant in his life.

“and one more thing,” you add, inching closer still.

“mhm?” theo is practically holding his breath in anticipation, and when you reach out to gently touch his arm, he stiffens for a second.

“i think you’re fit too.”

a startled laugh leaves him at your whispered words and instead of saying thank you, he finds himself stepping forward to clear the air and say what he’s been thinking since the party.

“i don’t think you’re fit,” he starts, face dropping when your smile falters. “shit, no, i mean you are. fuck,” he breathes out, dragging a hand down his face.

you take in the faint blush creeping up his neck that definitely wasn’t there right after he finished the match and allow him a second to gather himself.

“you’re beautiful,” he stammers, closing the gap between the two of you in earnest. he faintly registers the fact that he’s practically towering over you and leans down in an attempt to be less intimidating. “like, crazy beautiful. i meant to say that yesterday instead of sounding like an absolute twat, but i mean, what else is new when i’m around you-“

you cut him off by grabbing him by the collar of his quidditch jersey and pulling him down to press your lips against his in a firm, unyielding kiss. he stiffens, hands hovering uncertainly at his sides for a moment as though he’s frozen, but it isn’t long before he’s reacting, as though he’s suddenly woken up.

his hands find your waist immediately, pulling you into him and straightening up slightly to deepen the kiss, pulling you up slightly to stand on your tiptoes as your lips slot against his.

theo breaks the kiss to meet your eyes with his own wide ones, rushing out words between kisses. “i don’t think you understand just how long…” he exhales into your mouth, kissing you firmly. “i’ve been wanting to do…” he nips at your bottom lip, making you gasp. “this,” he finishes, grinning into the kiss when you melt against him.

theo takes the opportunity to reach his hands down to your thighs, lifting you up and carrying you over to the wall where he’s suddenly kissing you with a new confidence, moving to pepper kisses down your jaw and onto your neck.

you tuck a finger under his chin to lift his face up to yours where you match his grin, your lips swollen and eyes glazed over. he’s never seen a more beautiful sight.

“took you long enough.”

a/n cont.; I hate this soooo bad it was meant to be a silly little drabble and now it’s a block of uncapitalised mess but I’d put too much time into it (less than a day) so here u are I GUESS. take a shot every time I write a kiss that starts exactly that way

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | 13

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

"Are you busy?"

The phone call came at the stroke of midnight. Rafe had just gotten away from a lengthy discussion with his father regarding the open properties around Kildare and wanted nothing more than to crash out. But he answered without hesitation when your name flashed across the screen.

"No," he pauses. "Do you need me?"

You do, but you're reluctant to confirm that piece of information. Flattening your lips on the other line, you rub the back of your hand over your tired eyes as a prolonged silence engulfs the call.

But Rafe understands. With a firm I'm coming over, he disconnects the call to pick up his keys.

You've been home for a couple days now, having stayed at Tannyhill for a little over a week. However, with Sarah's return, you felt you'd overstayed your welcome and needed to part ways. Despite Rafe's protests, you insisted, needing to find your own space in the aftermath of everything.

He had hated the way you phrased it. That you needed a place without him.

When he reaches your driveway, Rafe discerns two silhouettes on your porch. Adrenaline spikes, assuming it was Aaron—and that was the reason for your distress call—but upon closer inspection, with the headlights of his car glaring in that direction, the clarity hits.

Maybank and Heyward.

His stomach twists at the realization that he wasn't your first recipient. That you went back to your roots before coming to him. Now, more than ever, Rafe has a bleeding need for some security, to be your first choice.

He doesn't like to be set in the backseat to a pair of Pogues.

Turning off the ignition, Rafe exits the vehicle just as Heyward and Maybank launch from your porch steps with rigid defense. Their eyes narrow at him in suspicion as he stalks up the long pebbled pavement.

"What are you doing here, Rafe?" Pope interrogates in lieu of a greeting.

Rafe scoffs, stuffing his hands into his pocket. "How is that any of your business, Pogue?"

JJ jumps in. "If you're here for Aaron—"

"I'm not," Rafe snaps, not liking any association with the loan shark, before admitting, "She called me."

A moment of suspense punctures the air before JJ disrupts it, shaking his head with disbelief. "Bullshit. Why the fuck would she contact a Kook?"

It's an insult, the way Maybank's lips curled with the title and Rafe huffs. He doesn't owe him any explanation and certainly won't give one. Stepping forward, Rafe attempts to enter your house, only for the two boys to block his path.

"Move," Rafe commands lowly.

Pope tries to meditate. "Look, I don't know what you're doing here, but she's been through some things and we don't want any more problems—"

Rafe doesn't bother listening to whatever else he has to say. He knows. He knows what you've been through and he's here because of it, not to add to it. But the accusation is thick on Pope's tongue, fueling his irritation. He attempts to shove past both of them, only for JJ to push back.

Shouting stirs you awake. That's a lie. You've been staring at the ceiling for the past hour, hoping it'll lull you to sleep, only for the act to be unproductive. When you start to hear sounds coming from outside, you know Rafe arrived.

Pushing past the screen door, you step out onto the porch to witness JJ and Rafe in the middle of a standoff.

Charged words thrown back and forth, you recognize the dark look behind Rafe's gaze as JJ keeps pushing Rafe's chest—one full of deep agitation, seconds away from snapping.

Your stomach flips with nausea.

"Back off, JJ," you announce sharply to the open yard, causing the trio to direct their attention to you. You briefly connect your gaze with Rafe before turning to the younger blond. "I called him."

JJ's hands drop from Rafe's chest, taking a step back, but there's a look of unsteadiness behind his gaze. Confusion spreads across his hard features while his mouth twists into an ugly scowl. "For what?"

"Does it matter?" You refute, avoiding his question. JJ cocks his head, only for you to add, "You can go home now."

JJ frowns, turning to Pope as they exchange a silent debate. When all Pope could give is a casual shrug, knowing it's your decision at the end of the day, JJ turns back to you.

"You could've let us stay," JJ reasons, throwing a harsh glance over his shoulder at Rafe. "What could a Kook do for you?"

"It's fine. He's my…" You trail off, unable to find the right words to label Rafe. Your initial ideas are too compromising. And Rafe doesn't want your relationship to be seen as complicated to the Kook public, since your interactions could circulate back to Ward. But here, in the sanction of The Cut, you know there's no intersection. No need for security. You shake your head with a tired yet reassuring smile. "It's okay. I appreciate you guys' help."

Rafe hates how you didn't say it.

With a heavy sigh, JJ nods. "Alright," he says, clapping his hands and signaling Pope to descend off the porch. They pair off as they head home and, sparing one last glance at Rafe—who's ascending up the short steps to approach you—JJ bids a final farewell. "Call us if you need anything."

Rafe's arm wraps protectively around your waist. "She won't."

You roll your eyes, shoulders relaxing from their rigid stance, as you watch their departing figures. Once they're no longer in view, you take his arm and tug him into your house.

The short stroll to your bedroom is mostly silent and Rafe takes inventory of your home for any disturbance. Since he ordered that cleaning service, your house is significantly cleaner. You had initially refused his charity but he refused to take no for an answer and you ended up with a grade-A cleaning company that polished your home from all the broken debris and dangerous hazards.

But that wasn't the problem.

When Rafe steps into your bedroom, it's an absolute mess. Pillows are skewed across the floor, your sheets wrinkled and tangled upon each other, and piles of your clothes are thrown together into a pile next to your closet. It greatly contrasts the environment outside your door.

"Shit," you mumble, embarrassment flooding through your body. You move from his touch to do some quick cleaning—throwing your pillows back on the bed, picking up dirty clothes, and tossing them into the hamper.

Abashment increases with each of your frantic steps, to the point that Rafe has to grab your elbow to stop you in place. "Hey," he says softly, lifting your gaze to his, "I don't mind."

You don't say anything. Fatigue pours into the very crevices of your bones. But despite the urge to be presentable, Rafe is a comfort. A clutch. And it's getting dangerous seeing how much you lean on him.

It's on the tip of your tongue to push him away. To tell him to go back home. But he beats you to it, glancing at the door.

"Where's your sister?" Rafe asks. "Are they okay?"

"They're fine," you answer, "They're sleeping."

You assumed Amara and Leilani would deal with the same troubles as you, but when you checked up on them, they were out like a light.

Rafe examines you carefully: the way you shift your weight from one leg to the next, the way your hands slightly tremble, and the clear indication of sleep deprivation from the darkened shades ringed around your eyes.

He understands now.

"And you're not?"

Your jaw locks before unwinding. "I'm sorry."

He wants to eradicate that phrase from your vocabulary.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"It's stupid."

"It's not stupid," he argues. "You have a problem and you called me. I'm here to help."

Rafe's words are adamant and warms your chest but guilt presses like glass against your heart. "Were you busy?"

"Doesn't matter."

You frown. But the look in his eyes is genuine and honest. You take a step back to separate from him, needing your own air. As of late, everything you own is his. "I…" You exhale a large breath, voice shaky. "I don't know. I don't know what's wrong."

"Is it because of Aaron?"

You hesitate before nodding once.

"Have you seen him?"

"No, and I think that's the problem." You expel another breath. "I'm on edge all the time. My chest feels heavy and tight and my head hurts." You pause, before choking out. "I'm just so exhausted."

Rafe closes the distance and wraps his strong arms around you as you sink into his chest. You inhale, taking in the faded smell of his cologne.

"I hate this," you mumble, balling the fabric of his shirt into fists. "I hate that I can't sleep. I hate that I'm always stressed. I hate that—" You cut yourself off, not wanting to reveal too much. Swallowing hard, you attempt to salvage your words. "I just hate that I'm like this."

Frustration oozes out of you and Rafe hates to see you in this state. However, he'll admit, having you vulnerable and open is a welcoming change. You're allowing him a chance to see a side of you no one else has the privilege to and he deeply treasures your trust.

He'll do anything to preserve it.

Rafe massages delicate circles into the small of your back, soothing the aches in your bones as you melt into his arms. "It's okay," he reassures with a sweet mumble, "I'm here. What do you need from me?"

"I just want to sleep."

"Then we'll sleep."

"No sex." You withdraw enough for him to meet your solemn gaze, "No touching. I don't want to do anything other than sleep."

"Okay." He agrees slowly, his voice is unsteady because of your accusatory tone.

"I'm serious, Rafe," you proclaim. "I know we like to mess around, but I'm too tired. I don't want to fuck tonight."

Rafe's expression is unreadable, stonewalling his emotions the moment those words slipped from your lips. Did you think he only sees you as a fuck buddy?

"I said okay," he snaps, a little sharper than intended, but you pretend not to acknowledge it. You misunderstand it as him being upset over the celibacy rule imposed tonight, but that wasn't the case.

You swallow hard, not wanting his aggression to roll over into bed. "Rafe," you begin, feeling guilty, "if you don't want to, it's fine—"

"I never said that," he cuts you off, not wanting the implication to be read that he doesn't want you here. He does. It hurts him that you think he sees you as nothing—when that's far from the truth. He just can't seem to say it. "I just..." His jaw tightens. "Let's just go to bed."

Your lips pull together into a thin line, wanting to address the issue, but deciding you cannot handle an argument tonight. Nodding, you separate from him and move to one side of the bed. Rafe does the same.

You thought Rafe would take some precaution to add distance between you but he doesn't. You can feel the overwhelming radiation of his body heat, the indication of his proximity in close range, and it causes your breath to be still.

You can't handle it. You need distance. You need space. It's too intimate otherwise, and you can't afford that.

Pulling yourself to the ledge, with your back facing Rafe, you inhale a deep set of breaths to soothe the tension in your body. To pretend you don't feel the heat of his gaze. "Goodnight."

He doesn't answer at first, before he reciprocates with a night and you close your eyes to sleep.

Rafe watches you. The first few minutes are normal, but as time passes, you can't seem to relax in your position. Twisting and turning, your eyes remain closed throughout. The only sound is the soft breaths escaping you to indicate your sleepy state—or, at least, the closest attempt at it.

His mind still lingers on your earlier words. Do you think he doesn't care about you? Beyond intimacy? Is that why you called Maybank and Heyward first?

Rafe never thought you had an issue with it. That you were perfectly content with the arrangement. But the accusation on your tongue gave a different interpretation. Do you want more? Or, is he driving himself insane with the idea of you being his and only his?

Lost in the spiral of his own thoughts, Rafe didn't even realize that you moved closer. Your back now facing the wall as one of your arms extends outward, draped across his chest.

He freezes. Rafe assumes it's an accident, something you'll retract in a matter of seconds. But when your arm reaches out again, seeking the curve of his neck, he realizes it isn't.

You want him.

Taking it as a sign, Rafe lowers himself to grab the underside of your thigh, pulling your weight onto him. The moment you're in his embrace, chest resting against his, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. And, in return, Rafe nuzzles into the open crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"No touching, huh?" He mumbles into the softness of your skin as a gentle taunt. But when there's nothing but the sound of shallow breaths and the emptiness of replies, Rafe realizes you truly fell asleep.

You reached for him unconsciously.

His heart races at the implication, before calming to a normal rate, matching the steady guided pace of your own breaths. His grip around your body tightens, squeezing the soft flesh because, at that moment, he doesn't ever want to let you go.

"You need me," Rafe murmurs the confirmation in the column of your throat, hoping the words would sink through. "And I need you too."

—

By morning, you're gone.

It shouldn't come as a surprise. Every time he spends the night, there's a brief hope that the outcome for the morning will be different. That you'll remain in his arms, sleeping soundly. It never happens. And despite the subtle ache in his bones from the weight of your body on top of his all night, it beats the ache in his heart.

Sighing, after washing up, Rafe exits your bedroom to discover you sitting on one of the stools. A leg propped on the flat seat, your chin rests on your kneecap while you're flipping through some old documents.

"Morning," Rafe says, falling into the space next to yours.

"Shit," you swear, nearly jumping out of your own skin, a hand covering your accelerated heart. You hadn't heard him coming. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he apologizes sincerely, his eyes scanning over your refreshed face. "You sleep okay?"

You nod, recalling the memory of this morning. Curled up on his arms, head buried in the curve of his neck, your body pressed against his. At first, you assumed Rafe had pulled you in, but that wasn't possible. He wouldn't go against your directive. It was all you.

The corner of his mouth rises at the recognition dawning on your face. Before he gets the chance to make some comment about your neediness, you cut him off. "Don't," you warn, feeling a rush of heat rising to your cheeks.

"I haven't said anything,"

"I see it on your face,"

He scoffs, but the smile remains. "You're right," he relents, leaning closer, shortening the distance between you until he's right before you. "I was thinking of it."

Your eyes catch him and the teasing glint behind his gaze, causing your breath to shorten. You expel a breath, trying to release some tension in your shoulders, before you clarify, "All we did was sleep."

"Yeah, but you slept on me," his voice drops a full octave, "Admit it, sweetheart, you want me. Why else would you want me here?"

You search his face, trying to figure out what he wants. What he's trying to get out of you. But you find nothing tangible. Refusing to put yourself in another position of vulnerability when Rafe has done nothing to balance the scale, you scale back, adding space. "I just—I needed someone I trust."

You don't acknowledge that his assertion is correct. That the one time you fell asleep peacefully was in his arms. Or, perhaps, it wasn't necessarily about trust but about him. Instead, you pretend it's something else, something vague and general, hoping one day it will.

"Someone," Rafe repeats. "Or me?"

You avoid the question.

And Rafe assumes the former.

Dropping your gaze to the files, the air stiffens into a palpable silence. Your fingers thread through the records, pretending to search for something, when all you can feel is the thumping of your heartbeat in your veins.

Rafe releases a sigh. The elation of his state quickly deflates after your rejection. Again. He doesn't know how much longer he can take before it truly destroys him. Deciding to shift the conversation elsewhere, he asks, "Do you want me to stay again?"

"No, it's fine," you shake your head, dismissing the proposition out of habit. Even though it would bring you peace, the rational side of your brain determines the distance necessary to protect yourself. Becoming too reliant on Rafe would add nothing but pain. "You can go home," you pause, considering how to lighten the mood, "I bet the mattress here sucks in comparison to your one-million thread counts, huh?"

There's a strain to your voice; a telltale sign. Rafe ignores your words and focuses on what he does best: reading your body language. With squared shoulders and an avoidant gaze, he knows your words are far from the truth. You just don't know how to ask for what you want.

So, he proposes a different question.

"But can you sleep?"

You don't answer.

"I'll stay then," he decides, as if he's reading an item off a menu. Before you get a chance to object, Rafe shifts closer, tugging the corner of a document. "What's this?"

Your mouth closes, shoulders slouching from how quickly he changes the topic. It almost makes you smile. Deciding it would be better than fighting it, you explain that you're reviewing your Sailor bank accounts to see what money you can spare without harming the business. However, the issue is that you can't seem to find any gaps.

Rafe's brows furrow together as he listens, asking permission to take a look at your statements himself. His eyes scan through the billing, before asking. "Why don't you sell the business and work elsewhere?"

"You're not funny," you declare, attempting to pull the document away, but his grip remains firm. His eyes are set on yours.

"I'm not joking," he declares. "It could help a lot. I mean, you'll earn more than what you're earning here."

He isn't wrong. At this point in time, you would profit more by working as a bartender than a business owner. But that's not the point.

"Sailor is my family's legacy," you explain, believing his question was not an attack on your qualification but rather from a strictly logical standpoint. "It and my sisters are the most important things in my life."

Rafe hums, and he doesn't add anything else. You don't know if he gets it. "Let me ask you something: why do you want Cameron Development so badly?"

He goes rigid. He's never been asked that question before. Never had to articulate his reasoning. It makes him uncomfortable to be interviewed—especially if it's to you of all people. "I don't know," he declares noncommittally, glancing at his lap, "I always assumed I would get it. I'm the oldest."

You shake your head. Not out of mistrust, but because you know him. Rafe isn't as simple-minded as the rest of Kildare likes to believe. There has to be more. "I don't believe that," you say gently, "Try again."

His expression morphs into a charming smile. A facade to hide. "Do I get something if I talk?"

You roll your eyes. "It's always sex with you, isn't it?"

His smile drops, but you don't pick it up. He shouldn't have said that, but it's too late. Your expression is easygoing and loose, a detachment to your words as if you truly believe and accept that perception of how he views you.

Instead of addressing his feelings, he tries to articulate what he meant before.

"I don't know," Rafe starts again, in a low mumble, his voice more vulnerable than it was moments prior. "Business was the one thing I got. I... I didn't excel in academics and I didn't like sports that much. But with Cameron Development, it was the one thing me and my dad could sit down and talk about and I didn't feel like a big disappointment to him."

He never said those words out loud before, and the confession sounds pathetic, but the way your eyes soften and your head nods along as you listen with no judgment, it gives him the confidence to continue forward.

"I... I get it, you know? The numbers don't scare me and the logic makes sense. It's the one thing I have going for me and to know that my dad is considering giving it to Sarah... It hurts. Like, she has everything and I can't even have the one thing I'm good at."

His voice cracks at the end, and his gaze has since dropped to the floor, hands messing and rubbing the calloused skin of the other.

You reach forward to cup the side of his face, and lift his head, meeting his sensitive gaze. "It isn't fair," you run the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone, trying to soothe the ache of his admission. "It truly isn't. I wish I could make it better for you."

Too gentle. Too loving. In the comfort of your touch, Rafe speaks before he can stop himself. "Sometimes I think if I have you, I'll be fine with the world."

Your breathing stills. Rafe did too. You don't know if you misheard him, or if he's implying something else, but before you can seek clarification, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it." Rafe swiftly pulls away, moving to the exit. His hands clench by his side, teeth grinding, regret coursing through his veins at the mistake of letting his emotions overtake him back there.

He shouldn't have said that.

When he opens the door, without checking the peephole, JJ stands behind it.

"Oh, you're still here," JJ declares with a hint of bewilderment. "Didn't think she kept dogs past noon."

Rafe's already on edge from the previous conversation that he has little patience for the Pogue. Seconds away from slamming the door on Maybank's smug face, you appear by Rafe's side, stopping him and inviting JJ in. He steps into your living room, holding something in his hands.

"What's that?" You point to the crumpled note, before recognizing his nervous stance. JJ's bouncing on the heel of his feet, avoiding your gaze, and when you repeat your question, more firmly this time, he reluctantly holds the note out.

"Someone left this at your bar," JJ explains as you take it. Your eyes quickly scan the message, your heart sinking with every word you read. "It's a warning. If you don't... If you don't pay him back in full tomorrow, he'll do something to your bar."

Rafe's watching your reaction with a hardened look. His eyes keep sliding over to JJ, the Pogue being the messenger of the news—the one you sought help from before—and the blond feels the heat of his stare on him. Consequently, it forces JJ to grab your elbow and pull you off to the side, away from Rafe.

JJ begins. "Look, I know you don't wanna do it, but my dad knows a guy—"

"No."

"He's been through with Aaron before," he whispers back sharply, "It might be the only option you have."

"And get stuck in the same shit I had with Aaron? No," you declare firmly, reading the note again. It does nothing to soothe the heightened nerves in your body. The way panic is ricocheting inside your stomach like a ping-pong ball.

JJ says nothing, the absolute behind your tone quiets him. While you're preoccupied with another read-through, JJ glances back to where Rafe stands.

"I gotta ask," JJ starts again, lowering his voice so only you can hear. You lift your head from the note, meeting his curious gaze, with a raise of your brow. "Rafe? Seriously?"

While you're trying to figure out how to maintain your livelihood, JJ is concerned about your love life.

"Is this really the time and place?"

"I'm serious, what do you see in him?"

"Drop it, JJ."

"I just don't understand," he continues in a whisper, but his volume raises slightly, "I swear, you're a pretty girl. You can do 10x better than him—"

"JJ," you command sternly, all amusement vanishes. "Drop it."

"Fine," he stays, stepping back with both hands partially raised to his collar. He doesn't turn to catch another glimpse at Rafe, but instead, offers the same advice as he did before. "If you need my help, you know where to find me."

Rafe watches as the Pogue leaves, stepping out to your porch and closing the door behind him. But his breath remains ragged. He caught the last bit of JJ's hushed words, and as much as he wanted to be sensible, he didn't like it.

You're different than Rafe, he understands that. You have a support system, a list of other people, and sometimes—as much as he hates to admit—they are better than him. Less volatile. Less emotional.

But it feels like you're pushing him away. Placing him as a last line of defense for all your troubles. The insecure parts of him are roaring—louder than his rational thoughts can ever be—telling him that he's the last choice. The last option.

He can't help but wonder. If Leilani hadn't called him, would you have? Or would it be JJ or Pope?

Rafe rounds the couch to approach you, his hand circles your wrist holding the note. Your head lifts to meet his harsh gaze.

"You don't need his help," he declares gruffly, "I could've done it."

You blink. "What?"

"The note at the bar," he gestures to the crumpled paper in your hands, before dropping his to his side, clenching down to a fist. "I could've taken care of it."

"I... I didn't ask him. He did it himself."

Rafe isn't convinced. "And last night with Maybank and Heyward, that was all them too?"

His tone is sharp and accusatory, leaving you lightheaded as you stare at him. You're still wrapped up around the threatening note, but Rafe is somewhere else. A different topic. Another issue. You can't seem to gauge what type of response you need to have. And in turn, you give him silence.

His anger rises. "Am I just your second choice? Your fucking backup plan because those Pogues don't cut it?"

Your head is spinning, and you attempt to pull away from his grip but he tightens it. "Rafe," you start slowly, your breathing quickens, "What are you talking about?"

Are you being ignorant on purpose? Are you trying to drive him mad? His fury erupts, flooding all his senses.

"Them!" Rafe points to the door, where JJ left moments ago. "Last night. Everything. Did you ask them before you asked me?"

It's starting to catch up. "Are you serious?"

"I told you that we'll figure it out together."

"I—" Your throat burns. You can't believe he's letting his jealousy about your friends come at a perilous stage in your life. Exhaling a sharp breath, you meet his stare head-on. "They appointed themselves to that role. I never asked that of them."

After Pope discovered the break-in, JJ and him formed a pact to take it upon themselves to watch over you while you're home. They traded off shifts, entertaining themselves on the porch where they set up a makeshift couch and hammock to crash. You had tried to convince them you were fine, but they were stubborn. They wouldn't listen. And at the time, you appreciated the extra protection.

But it didn't work. You couldn't sleep. You still needed him.

Does he not get that?

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head with contempt, "You never ask for anything."

"Are you really trying to start a fight right now?"

"Are you making it a fight?"

"They're my friends, Rafe," you emphasize, "I told you that."

"I'm not talking about that."

"Then what is it?"

His jaw is set, resistance churning through his system to shut the fuck up, but he can't hold it in. He finds himself asking, half in plead, half in confession, "What am I?"

You weren't expecting that. Your lips part, but no words follow through. His hard gaze is on you, waiting for an explanation, but you don't answer fast enough. It's killing him. His next words are a shimmering calm, in a deadly whisper, "Do you think I only want you for sex?"

Your heart squeezes in your chest, taking all your air alongside it. You think you lost your ability to speak, but when you do, it comes out small. "Don't you?"

You're turning the question back onto him, and he hates it. He's trying to get the words out of you, to see where he stands, but neither of you is willing to take that step. It reduces him to silence.

You can't believe it. He can ask, but he can't answer. Frustration fills you, searing hot and explosive. You don't stop yourself from saying, "Because last I remember, whenever you had a problem, you came over to fuck." You snap, your emotions rising to a crescendo, "And when I asked you what we are..." You trail off, losing your voice. The sting of his label still hasn't passed.

But he knows what you're referring to.

"That's different."

"How?"

Rafe doesn't speak. All he knows is it's different. He has feelings for you. Before he refused to acknowledge it, now, it's bleeding into everything he touches. Everything he does. He just can't seem to say it.

"That was before."

Your brows pull together, your anger pulsating through your veins. "Before what? Before Aaron broke into my house?"

"No," he declares, his response is a knee-jerk reaction, but it wasn't the right one. Attempting to rectify, Rafe stammers, "Well, yes, but it's just... It's..."

Why can't he fucking tell you?

He's afraid of being first.

"It's pity?" You supply, not bothering to conceal the hurt in your tone. "Everything is just pity?"

"No!" He exclaims, but it isn't right. It still isn't good enough.

"Then what is it?" You demand, trying to get a hold of your emotions. But you're seconds away from screaming, or crying, or both. You rip your hand from Rafe's grip, taking a step back to conserve yourself.

His gaze falls to his empty hands, his emotions choking him. Every attempt at saying the right words causes him to shrink, feeling small, feeling like a child reaching for their parent's love, only to be pushed aside and dismissed. His walls are for protection, but it destroys as much as it save him.

Rafe decides to settle on something easy. "I'm your boyfriend."

"Fake," you correct.

"Does this feel fucking fake to you?"

You reel back. All your anger dissipates. All your resentment, hurt, and frustration disappear once those words leave his lips. And you're left with a burning clarity. Your chest constricts, your heart hammering. But you can't seem to answer him. You want him to say it first. "You tell me."

Rafe can't. It took all of him to admit such a thing.

You watch him with bated breath, but only to be disappointed again. His dark blue eyes are piercing, rich with emotions, but none of them are vocalized. None are honest. You can’t do this. You can’t go through another second of this uncertainty. You’re tunneling towards heartbreaking misery. So, you turn to leave.

But Rafe catches your wrist and pulls you back. His lips slam into yours, knocking the wind from your lungs.

He pours everything into this kiss; all his desperation, vulnerability, and truth. His action demonstrates everything his words can’t. And while you reciprocate with the same passion, reality grounds you, and you draw back, shaking your head. “Rafe—“

He kisses you again. Hoping it’s enough. Begging it to be. He can’t say it. He doesn’t know why he can’t fucking say it. He wants this to be enough.

You push back again, and this time, his arm wraps around your waist, trapping you in his embrace. You’re breathing hard as Rafe stares down at you while you’re looking at his chest.

He says your name. You refuse to look up.

He says it again. More firmly. You don’t acknowledge.

“Sweetheart,” he finally says, softening his words, and you find yourself crying. Tears crowd your waterline as you shake your head, refusing to be persuaded by the sweet sound of your endearment.

“No,” you choke out, slamming a weak fist against his chest. “Let me go. I can’t—I don’t—I’m not doing this.”

You finally tilt your head up to look at him. The way he stares at you with such tenderness. You can’t seem to discern it from pity. “I can’t.” You sob, “If this is how you’re playing me, I can’t keep doing this anymore. You’re breaking my heart.“

Then it finally hits him.

All your resistance. It was never rejection. It was the complete opposite. Coupled with the same fears he had; the same emotions he didn’t know how to express. He’s been so blind to it.

He should’ve known. He should’ve read it the same way he’s been reading everything else.

It finally gave him the confidence nothing else has.

“I fucking love you.”

You are completely still. You think you're hearing him wrong, that this is just a way of your brain deluding you and calming your irrational state of mind, but it's real. Your lips part, breathing shallow, all while you're staring back into Rafe's eyes.

He's afraid. Rafe doesn't trust his own instincts. Everything about you makes him question himself. And while he gained a fleeting moment of courage, he doesn't know if it will follow through. On the off-chance that, despite all this, all the signs he read, he was wrong and it will be rejection.

"Say it back," Rafe whispers in a plea. It's pathetic, but he no longer cares. "Say it back or I'm going to lose my fucking mind."

"You love me?" You breathe in a whisper, unable to move on from this moment. Rafe squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing thickly, before nodding once.

“I think I loved you since I first met you,” he confesses. “I just didn’t know it yet.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

Rafe bristles, “You think I go around telling people I love them?” He declares, studying your expression, trying to gauge your reaction, but it’s hard when he’s blinded by the crippling fear that you don’t feel the same. “You think I do this for anyone?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, “I just don’t want you to say something you don’t mean.”

“I do mean it,” he declares, his voice suddenly dry, as he finds your gaze. “I… I’m sorry for before when I said things I didn’t mean. I don’t want you just for sex, I don’t see you as just a fuck buddy. I’m… I’m in love with you, and it’s fucking difficult to tell you that.”

Your lips purse together, but you still don’t answer him. Don’t confess your own side. Instead, you ask in a meek voice, “Since the beginning?”

He huffs. He can’t believe he’s admitting so much today. Revealing things he swore he’d keep hidden behind a locked box. But when he finds the light returning in your eyes, trying to gauge more of his reaction, read his true meaning, finding comfort in his words, he’ll rip out his own soul to keep it there. “Since the beginning. When you called me out, when you patched me up, when you slapped me—“ That bit makes you let out a small laugh, “I don’t think I was going to meet anyone who challenges and accepts me the way you do.”

You don’t say anything for the next few moments. And they were the longest seconds of his life. Rafe had to speak, “And if it’s just me, if I’m the only person who feels this way, I’ll find a way to be okay with that—“

You cut him off with a kiss.

“I love you,” you breathe into his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you,” you jump, curving your legs around his hips as Rafe catches you, steadying you with two hands tantalizing skimming the curve of your ass. “Fuck, Rafe, I love you so much.”

His heart fills with your words. Your desperation clinging to each puncture. He grins into the kiss, before he deepens it, tasting you, stealing your air. Everything feels right. Feels good. When Rafe separates to break the kiss, he catches the residue smile on your face and the little daze behind your eyes. He snaps a memory of it and saves it forever.

But, just as it came, it slowly faded away. Reality quickly dawns on you, and your arms tightens around Rafe’s neck, reminders and deadlines creeping up your skin. Your confession comes out small. “I… I’m scared. With Aaron and everything.”

“Sweetheart…”

“I don’t have the money, Rafe,” your eyes connect with his. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Rafe pulls you in, flushed against his chest as your head lays on his shoulders and his hand strokes your hair. It takes a moment for him to process, to remember the world outside of you. But, when he does, he whispers, “I’m going to take care of it,” his voice so low, it almost comes out as a threat. “I’ll take care of you.”

And he will.

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Navigation — Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14

[inbabylontheywept]

Memories of Grandpa Hank

I'm eating a bag of mormon gorp that tastes like gasoline while watching the rain run down the mountain. The taste doesn't even bother me anymore - all homemade gorp tastes like this. It's just a natural consequence of everyone keeping their prepper shit in their garages. 

My dad's out in the clearing, wandering around with his GPS. He's got some pieces of wire out on top of it to try and make the effective antennae bigger, but it just makes it look like he's dowsing. Another mormon tradition. I ask him if he's close to find water yet, and he looks up at me, little rivers flowing off him, and says yeah - he can feel it. 

I'm sure he can. I settle under my tree and watch the droplets roll down the needles. Awaiting the final judgement of Judge GPS. 

A few minutes later, it provides: 

Turns out my dad forgot to record the location of the car this morning. The GPS remembers where we parked yesterday, but by luck my dad knows how to get from there to our car. Downside is that it's a nine mile walk just to get to yesterday's position, then another five miles to backtrack. That's fourteen miles total. 

I'm only thirteen. 

Think you can make it? my dad asks. And it's a kindness that he's worried, but it's not like there's an alternative. What else would I do, sit down in the murk and cross my fingers he finds me again? Ask him to carry me 14 miles? 

I'll be pretty jelly legged, I say. But yeah. I'll make it. 

Attaboy, he says. He fishes a bag of poptarts out and offers me one as - I think - a peace offering. A, sorry you're gonna have to walk 14 miles in the rain because I goofed kind of gift. 

I take a bite and, despite being individually wrapped, it still manages to taste like diesel fumes. We start hiking our incredibly long distance in terrible weather for foolish reasons, and I joke to my dad that the only way to make this day any more mormon would be by pushing handcarts. 

He laughs. Neither of us laugh again until 11 pm, when we stumble like drunkards into camp. My grandpa has stayed up late to make sure we weren’t lost, but he only stays up long enough to see us arrive. We try to eat a dinner of sweet potato stew, but after falling asleep in the middle twice, we agree to just go to bed. 

I sleep in well past nine and wake up to nobody in camp but my grandpa. My dad left with my sister to keep hunting around 5 am. I know that everyone assumes that their dad is invincible when they're 13, but I'm 28 now and part of me still thinks he's gonna live forever. That God made exactly one perpetual motion machine, and it raised me in the desert. 

---

Around noon my grandpa suggests hunting again. If it was my dad, I'd probably tune him out, but I like my grandpa's style of hunting. My dad hikes and hikes and hikes until the elk get tired and just let him shoot them. My grandpa finds the sleepiest, sunniest, coziest field and takes a nap there, figuring if the elk have any decent taste they'll come there at some point.

Man's got a knack for knowing what elk like - he's right more often than not. I think he might've been an elk in a previous life. 

I go with him, and much as I hate to admit it, the hike is good for me. I start off walking like a pirate on two peg legs, so stiff I might as well not have knees, but by the end of the mile and a half walk I'm almost normal. We make it to the edge of the clearing, and my grandpa finds a patch of grass taller and softer than the beds inside the trailer, and he curls up to sleep there. I look across the grass and I watch the comings and goings of critters through the field. Sometimes I use the scope to get a magnified view, but I never do so with my hand on the trigger. The thought of accidentally looking a person through that glass is something that sends a chill up my spine. 

Some deer wander through the glen, but it'd take a fool to mistake one of them for an elk. A few hours later, my grandpa wakes up and asks if I want to wander around a little. It's a lovely day. Rain comes in bursts in Arizona, and the day after is almost always clear as can be. And for a short while, all the desert browns turn green and lush. Hard mosses turn squishy and cacti swell up like fresh baked muffins and for a while you can get why people settled in these god forsaken wastes. 

So I go with him, and we walk on, me with my gun, him just taking in the forest. He looks so peaceful that I get a little jealous, but it's not until my grandpa stops and looks at me that I even notice it myself. Takes a mirror, sometimes, to know yourself.

Being near my grandpa is always a strange thing for me. He's quiet, and he doesn't talk much, and I don't ever get the feeling that he's particularly emotionally intelligent - but it's like he's interacting with a reality more raw and real than mine. Like I'm watching symbols on a screen and he's counting atoms. And sometimes, just being near him gives me access to that raw matter. Just something about how he is breaks the illusions of the world.

He looks at the gun like a foreign object, like he doesn't recognize it, then he looks at me. He speaks and he doesn't mince words. 

What would you do if an elk came across the path and you shot it right now? he asks. 

Well, I'd start cleaning it, I say, and he waves the words away like cobwebs in his face. 

But would you celebrate? he presses.

And I look at him, and I don't actually see any judgement staring back. He knows the answer, and he's at peace with it. He’s asking so I can see it too. He’s being a mirror so I can see my own face.

I think I might actually cry, I admit. And he nods along in agreement before reaching forward to take the gun off my shoulder. 

Lets just walk today, he says. No chance of killing anything. No worrying about that. 

Right, I say. 

He pops the chamber open and tosses me back my bullet. I catch it, and the relief I feel is palpable. 

Can I change my mind? I ask, and he shrugs.

Whenever you want. Hunt or don’t. It’s not the hunting that I’m worried about. It’s seeing you ignore your conscience.

And for a moment, I'm there in the real world with him, and my gloves are off, and reality is a metal cube in my hand: Sharp and cold and heavy.

Or maybe that’s just the bullet.

---

We make it back to camp a bit later than my dad. We get there and he’s waiting for us. If he's tired, he doesn't show it. 

How'd it go? he asks. My grandpa looks at me, and I don't know how to respond. I don't know how to explain it, and I am scared. 

Great, he replies. It's a shame Babs only has a doe tag. We saw a five-point out there. Close enough to hit with a football. 

No, my dad says. If his grin was a half inch wider, both ends of his mouth would meet in the back of his head and everything above his tongue would slide off.

Tell him Babs, grandpa says. And, not for the first time, and especially not the last, I try my hand at spinning a yarn. 

It's pretty good. But at 13, I still have a lot to learn.

[moonstruckme]

absolutely live for ur roommate!james could you maybe write one on him meeting some of readers friends for the first time or calling james to pick u up after a girls night 😇would love to see him finally feel “included” in our life like we are in his

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: alcohol

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

James is so absorbed in the football match on his phone that when there’s a tap on the window next to his face, he jolts halfway across the center console and squeaks like he’s twelve years old again. 

You’re beaming outside the car. Your shoulders shake with quiet, un-self-conscious laughter, so it’s impossible for James to be any kind of upset. Still, he makes a show of huffing a little as his own smile spreads. He reaches over and opens his door. 

“Sorry,” you say. You don’t look it, so he lets you off the hook for your over-apologizing. 

“Who do you think would drive you home if I had a heart attack?” James asks. He’s somewhat breathless, either because of the scare or the easier-than-usual grin still fixed on your face. 

You lean against the side of his car and roll your eyes. “Oh, your heart’s too healthy to be in danger of attacks.” 

“What are you doing on this side of the car? You’re the passenger, you know.”

“Okay, listen.” You give him a very intentional look. It’s more eye contact than he’s used to from you, and it makes his guts go all twisty in a surprisingly nice way. “It’s completely up to you, of course, but I think I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.” 

It clicks into place. “You’re drunk.” 

“Not very.” Your grin is a short fall from impish. Your eyes sparkle. God help him. “But you’re about to be.” 

James feels his eyebrows float up. “How do you figure?” 

“Because I’ve come to collect you. If you want.” 

“To collect me…where?”

“Inside,” you say, as though this should be obvious. You tip your head towards the restaurant. “We’ve just closed, and we have so much wine. Pleasepleaseplease, James, come in.” 

“Okay.” He’s letting you tug him from his car before he knows what he’s agreed to, only that one please will always be enough to get whatever you want from him. “Alright, love, but doesn’t your manager mind that you’re drinking their wine?” 

You let loose a bark of laughter, loud and sharp and totally unlike you. “Tom? Yeah, right.” 

Tom, James learns quickly upon entering the rowdy atmosphere of your workplace after hours, is younger than the both of you, hardly old enough to serve alcohol and yet managing the restaurant. And the wine isn’t stolen, necessarily, but the fortunate leavings of a wealthy customer who bought more bottles than his table could handle and then left nearly all of them. 

Everyone who’d been on the night shift is strewn about the empty restaurant. Servers and busboys and dishwashers all perched on stools, standing behind the bar, sitting criss-cross-applesauce on tables. You take James by the hand, first reclaiming the bottle of wine you’d evidently stored behind the host’s station and then leading him around the room to introduce him to various coworkers. His hand feels warm and tingly. You have an easy repartee and a million in-jokes with the servers, but even the kitchen staff seems to adore you. As they rightly should, James thinks. It’s obvious you’re as kind and considerate here as you are at home, and he feels a bit silly for not having been able to picture you in this place so clearly before now. 

Art is working with you again tonight. It’s embarrassing, the warm wave of relief that James feels when he notices you don’t pay him any extra attention. He makes a mental note to extend his offer of a ride home more often. Every time your hand starts to slip from James’, you readjust your grip before he can even think of doing it himself. Suits him just fine; ever since your mugging incident, suddenly James is in this weird place where he always wants a hand on you.

You say his name, and then the lip of a bottle is being pushed against his lips. 

“You haven’t had hardly any.” You look like you’re trying to pout, but your eyes are smiling. 

James takes the bottle from you. He looks you in the eyes as he takes a sip as if to say, Happy? It’s barely enough to warm his throat. “I am still driving us home, you know.”  

The pout is getting better. “I know, but I’m trying to be fun for you. You don’t have to drive us if you don’t want to! You’re always the one doing the nice things.” 

“Oh, don’t.” His tone is fonder than he means for it to be, but luckily you’re too tipsy to mind. “You’re plenty fun. You do nice things for me all the time.” 

“Yeah, but not enough to balance out.” You make your eyes big and pitiful. James feels fortunate this isn’t a skill you seem inclined to utilize sober. “Obviously you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but—Jamie, don’t hold back because of me, please.” 

His stomach does an impressive flip. He doesn’t think you realize you’ve called him that, doubts you’d have done it under normal circumstances, but his nervous system cares not for rationalizations. He wants desperately to hear you say it again. 

You beam as James lifts the bottle to his lips again, taking a few hearty gulps. You both end up walking home that night, but you wake even before James to go retrieve his car in the morning.

[domuspeccati]

Day 13 : I Love This Place

Ft. Ahn Yujin

Kink : Stuck In Wall

“A little help!” Yujin shouts. She reaches for her phone, but it’s just out of reach. Not wanting to draw any more attention to herself, she waits to see if anyone offers any assistance. Yujin’s arms can only reach so far.

She sees her phone on the ground. As if it’s taunting her, it slides a little bit more out of arm’s reach. Yujin huffs and stands up. She tries her best to not get her legs tangled with anyone else’s on the way to her phone. “Excuse me,” Yujin says. She narrowly avoids one man’s foot, shifting to the side to step over it.

So far, her day hasn’t been too kind to her. Yujin has seen a drunk man harass a woman, she’s been bumped into, which made her drop her phone the first time, and she’s been stuck on this subway for the better part of half an hour.

Yujin, at long last, reaches her phone. She bends down to pick it up. “Gotcha,” she remarks under her breath. The girl clutches the phone and makes her way back to her seat. After hurdling the same pairs of feet from the spot where the phone rested back to the seat, Yujin sits down and breathes easier now that her phone is back in her possession.

The mobile device chirps. Yujin checks the message. “Oh great,” she mutters. “What could he possibly want?” Yujin reads the message mentally and a long sigh escapes her mouth. “I’m gonna be late,” the first message reads. “I know we have that project at work, but I can’t make it because traffic is a nightmare. I’ll try to be there as soon as possible. If you get there before me, work a little bit on it.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. The lethal combination of reactions would be enough to set anyone off. Knowing that she’s on a tight schedule, Yujin composes a message. “Okay then,” the first message reads. “I’m on my way right now. After I get there, I’ll cover for you.” Yujin sends the message and puts her phone back into her pocket.

Yujin sits patiently in her seat. Waiting for the stop where she gets off has never felt longer. She hopes that this ride will be over in the foreseeable future. She knows that this ride will only last a few more minutes, but to her, that’s an eternity.

The minutes pass in relative silence. Yujin listens to the occasional noises coming from the other passengers. Once the ride comes to a stop, she stands up and gathers her belongings. Yujin bows and apologizes for her outburst while heading for the exit. Once she’s at the exit, she leaves without a second thought.

The doors close behind her and she’s sent on her way. Yujin exits the station, walking up the stairs to ground level. She emerges onto street level and takes a brief look around. The area, which is practically engraved in her mind, makes the last leg of the journey easier.

She begins her walk to the office. Yujin keeps to herself, trying to balance it out after her outburst on the ride here. She tries to forget that instead focusing on the walk to her office. Yujin rounds the corner and this starts the longest straight walk of the entire day. No turns for the last few blocks, which definitely makes things a little easier on her.

Yujin tries to make her walk as easy as possible. The ride was emotionally taxing, so it still lingers in her mind. She tries to shake it, but her embarrassing moments always stick with her. “I need a drink,” she tells herself. “Or something.”

As she’s lost in her thoughts, Yujin bumps into a man. “Watch it!” You bark. Seeing that the girl meant no harm, you relax and open your mouth to speak again. “Looks like you’ve seen a fucking ghost. Speak.” You wait for a response and examine the girl who is dressed in formal attire.

She shakes her head. “I’m fine,” she tells you. “Really.” Yujin tries to walk around you, but you don’t budge. “I really do have somewhere to be. I have this thing at work that desperately needs to be done.”

You smile at her and nod understandingly. “Well, can I interest you in something?” you ask her. “A pretty girl like yourself surely has needs or something.”

Yujin clicks her tongue. “I’m gonna stop you right there.” She puts one hand on your chest and pushes you gently. “I have to get to work. Anything else can wait.” Yujin then removes her hand from your chest and walks past you. She doesn’t want anything else to get in the way today.

“You don’t understand.” You grab Yujin’s hand. “It’s not just a hookup.” Your hands pull her closer, begging her to listen to you. Seeming like you’re begging for her attention, you let Yujin’s hands go. “You look to be in need of a little stress relief and I’ve had a long night. We should make ends meet.”

She shakes her head. Thinking about it for a moment, Yujin doesn’t move a single muscle. She then shrugs and stares at you. “Well, I don’t see a problem with it,” she tells you. “It’s not the first hookup. Won’t be the last one either.”

You smile, pleased with yourself. “Right this way then,” you instruct her. As Yujin follows you, you lead her into a dark alley. Once you make it to the end of the alley, you point to a door on the right. “It’s in this building. Just stick close to me and we’ll make sure that you have an absolute blast.”

Yujin sees the smile on your face. She doesn’t normally trust people who lead her into secluded areas, but she makes an exception. “Could’ve been anyone.” Yujin looks up at you and says it again. “It could’ve been anyone. Why am I the girl who gets asked? There’s surely other women on that stretch of road who are in need of a little bit of stress relief.”

You nod. “There was one earlier.” Your admission makes her look even more confused. You then open the door and both of you walk in. The strong smell of sweat hits you. You can tell that the smell is a little much for Yujin. “You just look like you don’t get enough relief.”

She laughs. “I can’t deny that,” she confesses. Yujin’s eyes meet the eyes of another man. “It smells like a gym here. Why did it have to be here?” Her question hangs in the air.

“There’s a simple answer.” You usher Yujin into an available side room. “I like my clientele to be in similar businesses.” Once you’re in the room, you close the door behind her. “Go over to that wall there.”

Yujin laughs. “Are you kidding?” she asks you. Her eyes lock onto the hole in the wall. “Let me guess…” Yujin releases a deep sigh. “There’s another cock on that side of the wall.” Yujin removes her blazer. “I’m not a huge fan of being shared. That’s something that I leave to my colleagues.”

You run your fingers through Yujin’s hair. “That’s a great idea.” You walk over to the hole in the wall and peep through it. “There’s no one on the other side. Considering that’s where we keep lube for the anal freaks, I’d be surprised if anyone found comfort in that cramped space.”

As you step away from the wall, Yujin realizes that she has no choice other than to trust you. Yujin puts her blazer on the seat next to the hole. She then picks her bag up and places it on the blazer. The girl moves closer to the wall and bends down. Yujin sticks her head through the hole in the wall.

You get a good view of Yujin’s ass. The pants surely don’t do it justice. To make sure that everything is good to go, you grab her pants and yank them down to her knees. “Nice choice of panties,” you tell her as you grab them.

Yujin tries to look back at you but remembers that her head is through the wall. “I made sure that you’d like them,” she jokes. Once her panties are pulled down, she feels your hands on her bare asscheeks. Yujin moans softly and then realizes that you’re going to take full advantage of the situation.

Not caring about being late to work anymore is relieving for her. Yujin sighs, happy that she’ll soon get the relief that she needs. Yujin attempts to position herself, but she realizes that you are holding her in place.

“The lucky man gets to decide,” you tell her. With that, you push Yujin closer to the wall. You put your back into it, shoving the girl by pressing against her shapely ass. Once you get her into the desired position, you move your hands away from the girl’s backside and grab the zipper of your pants.

Yujin attempts to wiggle. “This is a little uncomfortable!” she calls out. Yujin attempts to move again, but she’s genuinely stuck in place. “I’m stuck now? You want me to be a cocksleeve this badly?”

You laugh and unzip your pants. “Truth be told, I had a good look at your frame.” You take your cock out and place it on Yujin’s bare ass. “I knew that your body would be perfect for this hole, so I had to think about which room would give a tight squeeze but not so tight that it hurts you.”

She places her hands on the wall that’s touchable through the other end of the hole. “It’s just enough to where it doesn’t feel like I’m having my guts squeezed out.” Yujin knows that exaggerating won’t get her anywhere, but she tries to ease the discomfort by making a joke.

“You can get out whenever you want,” you tell her. “I see how wide the hole is and, if you really wanted to, you could escape right now.” Your tip pushes into Yujin’s pussy. “You don’t want to leave yet though, do you?”

Yujin moans as your cock is inserted into her. “I definitely don’t!” She feels her breedable hole get stretched by your length as it pushes inside. When the thrusting begins, Yujin looks down at the floor, focusing her efforts straight down so her neck doesn’t get any pain from focusing elsewhere.

You start to fuck Yujin like you mean it. The bucking of your hips is similar to that of a man who hasn’t seen his lover in weeks. There is desperation in your thrusts. It’s a desperation in the sense of wanting to fill this sexy girl to the brim with your seed.

She gets wetter when your thrusting pattern gets into place. Upon finding the most comfortable position for her hands, Yujin surrenders to you. She never imagined that being stuck would be so arousing to her, but something about the willing helplessness just turns her on like never before.

The sensation of using Yujin is a very arousing one. You never thought that a girl in a suit would be hiding such a good ass. You haven’t even had a look at her chest, but you figure that you’ll save that for next. Your cock is doing everything to make sure that she enjoys it so much that there will be a next time.

Yujin’s pussy juices drip onto the floor. Now that she’s soaking your rod with her wetness, she realizes just how enjoyable you really are. Yujin relaxes, letting you dictate the pace while she makes herself comfortable in her fuckable position.

You can’t see Yujin’s face but you know that she is having the time of her life. Based on how her pussy is constricting around your length to give you something to work for, you can tell that the stuck girl wants you to have as much fun as you want. “Enjoying yourself?” You ask Yujin.

She nods, knowing that you can’t see her. Yujin then gives a response that comes in the form of her shaking her ass. “I’m having a great time,” she moans. “FUCK!” Yujin screams when your cock hits the right spot. 

As you pound her tightness over and over, you feel her reacting well to the thrusts. Yujin’s body is going to make sure that you spill every last drop of your load into her. You smack her ass and watch the skin ripple. Her squeal can be heard through the hole in the wall, which pleases you even more.

Yujin realizes that she can’t contain herself. She knows that she’ll be cumming all over the place in a few minutes. She tells herself that she’s trying to hold on, but a quick change of pace removes that thought from her mind.

You grip Yujin’s hips and speed up. The new rhythm is easily found by you and you use it to your advantage. “You’re so wet,” you moan. As you keep laying pipe in Yujin, your cock throbs. The sensation triggers you in a positive way and you reach around her with one hand, snaking the fingers between the wall and the front side of her body to reach down and play with her clit.

All of the touching is unbearable. Yujin shudders in anticipation. Finding it hard to stay still, Yujin clenches her fists and presses them against the well. The girl’s sexual frustration of days and weeks past fades away with the simple motions of your rod going into her, coming out of her, and going back in again.

Yujin’s orgasm creeps ever closer. The impending spray of juices is the only thing on her mind. Unbothered by work, unbothered by being shoved in a wall, and unbothered by being fucked by a man who she met barely a handful of minutes ago, Yujin enjoys the steady usage of her vagina. She feels it coming and there is nothing that she can do to stop it. All she’s able to do is tell you.

“SHIT, I’M CUMMING!” Yujin screams. She closes her eyes as her body begins to shake. Yujin feels her strong orgasm as the pleasure hits her all at once. Her legs shake and she struggles to stand up, her juices splashing onto the wall and the floor. As she cums, she realizes that your cock is no longer in her.

Unsure if she pushed it out or if you pulled out without telling her, Yujin’s pussy releases even more of her nectar. The girl smacks the wall with her fists, denting the other side from the power of her hits. “GOD, IT FEELS AMAZING!”

You watch Yujin, enjoying her sexual spasms. Once the orgasm is done with, you reward her pussy with a few smacks from your cock. You then slap her folds with your hand, the fingers smacking the wetness and making it splatter even more. “That was more powerful than most of the girls who visit here.”

Yujin chuckles. “Tell me about it,” she jokes. The girl tries to catch her breath, but the raspiness will only last longer. Yujin is impaled by your cock once more while she recovers from her orgasm.

You know that yours will be coming soon as well. You always want to make the most out of a perfect opportunity, so you fuck her like your life depends on it. “That’s it,” you tell her. “Bring me over the edge.” You slap her ass and watch it ripple again as her body reacts to your touches and prodding.

She is leaking at this point. Her juices continue to flow, making her pussy like a Slip ‘N Slide. You continue to batter Yujin’s entrance, hammering with your cock to hit the depths. You then move your hips back and prepare for a change in thrusting.

Your cock is pushed back in, albeit with a little less depth than it just had. You don’t go balls deep, instead choosing to fuck her with almost your entire shaft but not quite the whole thing. A few more moments of this would surely send you skyrocketing into a state of bliss, but you figure that it’s worth it to fill Yujin.

You place both hands on her waist. As you grip her, you keep fucking Yujin and letting the warmth and wetness consume you. You can tell that her pussy is hungry and you don’t want to keep it waiting any longer.

Yujin feels you jackhammer her pussy. She braces for impact, looking back at the floor once more. Yujin’s preparations aren’t enough and she realizes this as you fuck her as hard and fast as possible. “Cum for me,” she begs, biting her lip while waiting for the feeling of a massive load inside of her.

With a groan, you unleash your load. Your hands leave Yujin’s waist as the seed spills into her and you thrust slowly but keeping the same depth. You fuck her while your hands stay off of her body.

Each thrust brings in more semen. You then grab the girl and pull her closer to you, letting the cum be shot deep inside. After a handful of hip thrusts, you leave your cock all the way in her to shoot the last rope. The final bit of your ejaculate comes out and the rod twitches, signaling a job well done.

Yujin feels you pull out of her. She mumbles something under her breath in Korean as your tip emerges from between her lower lips. The girl pants hard like she just had the most vigorous exercise of her life. “Can I get out?”

You think for a moment. “Maybe I should leave you here,” you tell Yujin. You laugh and grab something to clean your cock. After cleaning your rod with her asscheeks, you put the shaft away. Your pants are zipped and you turn away from her while attempting to find a good answer for Yujin’s question.

“You could always stay here for a day.” You smack Yujin’s ass and grab her bag. “I could text your boss to tell you that you’re taking a day off.” Your hands then put her bag back down. “Just get back to work. I do have a condition for you.”

Yujin takes herself out of the wall. “What is it?” she asks you. Once she’s standing up straight, she walks over to her bag. She lifts it and grabs her blazer. Yujin puts the blazer back on and buttons it before putting her bag back over her shoulder. “I am already gonna be like half an hour late,” she says.

You turn back to her and point to the door. “Your condition is actually very simple.” You lean down to whisper in Yujin’s ear. “I want you to do me a favor. The next time that you’re horny, you should come here and visit me. If I’m not here, there will always be an eager cock.”

She covers her mouth while giggling. “Sure thing,” Yujin says. She grabs your crotch and walks to the door. “I’d much rather have the cock I’m familiar with. Just stand outside the door and wait for me to come to you.” Yujin opens the door and breathes softly, attempting to compose herself while she’s still in the building.

“Just give me your phone.” When she hands you her phone, you text your number. “Save me in your contacts as whatever you wanna call me.” You hand her phone back to her after adding the number to her contacts. “Now, get a move on.” You walk Yujin to the exit and keep your arm around her shoulder. “I wouldn’t want you to miss the valuable opportunity to have a story to tell.”

[mingtinys]

" you should rest "

pairing : choi seungcheol x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : language

word count : 0.5 k

a/n : super super excited to be doing this little mini-series starting off with seungcheol !!

You're rudely awoken from your slumber by the slamming of brakes and Seungcheol throwing curses at the car in front of him. Your seat belt stops your momentum, though you can't say the same about your poor suitcases and bags in the back seat that tumble forward with a violent thud.

"Fucking idiot," he mutters, then looks over to you with a complete change of expression. "Are you okay?" He's still got his arm extended over your chest like a mother.

"I'm okay, are you?"

"Yeah," he sighs, letting his arm drop from its protective position in favor of resting his hand on your inner thigh. He squeezes ever so lightly in an attempt to ground himself. "Asshole cut me off and then slammed his brakes. I'm sorry to wake you."

You hum, reaching out to brush back his bangs from his eyes. A fond smile lights up his features at the gesture. "S'okay. How much longer do we have left?"

"About an hour or so."

An hour!?

"Cheol!" You scold, shuffling to sit up in your seat. "You were supposed to wake me up an hour ago to switch off!"

If there was only an hour left that meant he'd been driving for nearly three already. You only meant to nap during his half of the drive to your parents' house then you would finish the rest so he could get some sleep. You even made him promise about three times over to wake you up, but it seems that went unheard.

He just shrugs and steals a glance at you, that signature pout playing at his lips. "I don't mind. Besides, you've seemed stressed lately, I figured you could use the extra rest."

Admittedly, the extra shut-eye was pretty nice. But still, you wish he would've woken you. "I appreciate it, but I'll feel guilty if you take the whole drive. Pull over and we'll switch off for the last bit."

Stubborn as always, Seungcheol shakes his head. "I'll take care of everything, you should rest." There's honestly no arguing with him over stuff like this. So you just sigh and grumble about conquering the trip back on your own to make up for it. Seungcheol just chuckles at your dissent. "You're too cute."

You curl up in your seat once more, turning so you can admire glare at your boyfriend who's a little too happy with himself. He notices, and the way his lips crack into a smile is irritatingly adorable. Seungcheol reaches his arm to the back, fishing out his coat that had been buried under your multitude of travel bags. Placing it over your legs, he steals another lingering glance.

"You're not forgiven yet, I'm still mad at you." It's probably the least threading sentence you've ever uttered in your life. Your voice sounds whiney, even to you, and that really makes Seungcheol laugh.

"I know, baby. Sweet dreams."

[longlivejemily]

After Office Hours p.2

Read Part 1 here!

Pairing: Professor!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader continues to receive more extra credit at office hours with Professor Reid.

WC: 2.5k

Warning: Student/teacher relationship, slight sub/dom dynamics, semi-public sex, fingering (f receiving), hair pulling (f receiving), use of “baby,” “little girl,” and y/n. plz let me know if I’m missing any!

You spent 3 days with Dr. Reid being the only thing on your mind. Replaying Thursday night over and over and over. It was the last thing you thought of when you fell asleep, and the first thing you thought of when you woke up. The morning after you planned to study most of the day, so much for that. The image of him underneath you, holding you as you came undone is persistent in staying at the front of your mind. You spent at least an hour and a half zoned out imagining all the ways next week's office hours could go. Don’t show up before 7. What did he mean by that? What’s going to happen after office hours this week? 

Your criminology class is the only one you have on Mondays. You spent most of the day getting ready for his lecture. You took that time to pay more attention to your hair, makeup, and outfit. Taking one last look in the mirror before you left, you questioned if you did too much. Curled hair, winged liner, and so much jewelry to the point that you’re sparkling. At the last minute, you brush out your curls. Deciding to trade these fresh barrel curls for a light wave that will be easy to toss over your shoulder. You take off some of the jewelry, this is your criminology class, not a red carpet. 

With every step closer to his door, your anxiety grows. You sit in your normal seat, the third row back in the center. When he walks in, he glances towards you for just a second, and that is the only time he acknowledges you all day. 

You are more distracted than ever before in his class. 4 days ago he was still an object of your fantasies. Now you know how his hands feel on your body, how his voice sounds as he talks you through your orgasm. He talks with his hands when he lectures, you’ve never hated it until today.

All day you were falling behind in your notes. At one point he misspelled on the chalkboard and wiped away his mistake with his pointer and middle finger. Imagining those two fingers inside you had you lost in your dreams for at least 5 minutes. You regained consciousness and were focused on the material for all of 45 seconds when he decided to sit on his desk. Your eyes were laser-focused on his crotch while he subtly man-spread. Is he doing these things just to fuck with you? It was hard to say, he never made eye contact. As he would scan the room his eyes would skip yours. 

Was he trying to hide his attraction? Maybe if he didn’t look at you nothing ever happened? You felt a fire in the pit of your stomach. Not sexual tension, something else. Jealousy? You noticed his eyes linger on the front row which was all girls just auditing. They were there oogle at your professor for 3 hours a week and then had the audacity to come to office hours. Because they were auditing, their questions weren’t about the class and criminology, but about his social life and where he spends his free time. Hoping to get a glance at the professor when he wasn’t in teaching mode. 

You never liked those girls, they were distracting, and couldn’t care less about criminology or profiling. But now, you hate them. You want his glances at them to be towards you instead. You want to giggle at his jokes and have his eyes meet yours with a smile. How did one hour with him make you so possessive?

“That’s all for today, class. We’ll pick up where we left off on Wednesday. Please read chapters 12 and 13 in preparation.” As soon as he uttered that last word, you were out of there.

–

Your Wednesday class with Dr. Reid went the same as the class before. He simply ignored you. In hopes of getting his attention, you wore the same thing to class as you did during office hours last week. You arrive at class before him and when he walks in and sees you, he pauses for a moment, sucks in a breath, and continues his walk to his desk. Thanks to him you weren’t the only one with profiling skills. You noticed the slight change in his step and knew you had him hooked. Too bad he's not hooked enough that he still ignored you for all of class. Every time you raised your hand to answer a question he called on someone else. You’ve always been a jealous person, but this is something else. Possession, obsession, you needed to make him yours. This ‘game’ he was playing was getting really annoying.

–

You were an anxious mess for most of Thursday. You didn’t absorb any knowledge from your classes and skipped your study sessions with some classmates due to your zombie-like behavior. Not a zombie focused on brains, but Professor Reid. You even skipped your stats class due to worries that you would get out even later and miss your office hours with Dr. Reid. 

You traded your usual mini skirts for a knee-length one, which is more comfortable for your lack of underwear. You’re wearing thigh-high stockings with Mary Jane’s and a chunky sweater. Under the sweater, you have an extremely thin lace bra. You shaved your entire body this morning to get ready for him. Your makeup is gorgeous but mild, and completely waterproof. You have no idea how tonight is going to go, got to be prepared!

The click of your heels down the hallway and the blood rushing in your ears are the only things you can hear on the walk to Dr. Reid’s office. You take a deep breath to ground yourself before you turn the corner of his hallway. It’s 7:05 and you hang out for a few moments outside his door. You pretend to read a plaque on the wall that lists the prominent people to have come out of your university. You are trying to look busy in case another student exits his office. After 5 minutes of reading the names of old white men, you get the courage to knock on his door. You only have to wait a few moments after knocking for him to appear in front of you. Your neck snaps up to meet his eyes as a shy smile appears on both of your faces. “Y/N! Thank you for coming to office hours, welcome.” He steps to the side letting you enter, locking the door behind him just as last time. 

Hearing the click of the lock sends heat straight to your core. You have to resist the urge to climb him like a tree. Instead, you both sit across from each other, the desk and thick air of sexual tension the only thing between you. You are having deja vu from last week as he asks, “What can I do for you?” Earth-shattering rough sex would be just fine, you think to yourself. “Yeah I do have a question about class this week, were you having fun teasing me?” He licks his lips and avoids eye contact. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He says with a gulp.

 “Oh fess up professor.” You say while standing and walking over to the other side of his desk. You sit atop it facing him while keeping your ankles crossed. You don’t want to tip him off about your lack of underwear just yet. You flash a smile at him while touching his knee with the side of your foot. “Okay,” he says with a sigh. “I wasn’t teasing you. Not on purpose, at least. I felt that if I acknowledged you, for some reason everyone would know about us.” You blush at his last syllable as he continues. “This job is very important to me, it gives me purpose. But also I can’t get you out of my head. I was afraid of my glances lingering too long and tipping someone off. I traded my glances at you for glances at the auditors in the front row. I was looking at them, but only thinking about you.”

You smirk at the subtle shade he throws at the girls who are paying to look at him twice a week. “Less talking about the girls in the front row, let's move forward with how I can gain some extra credit.” You say while uncrossing your ankles. He is immediately peaking underneath your skirt. He starts to blush when he meets your eyes and knows he's been caught. “Dr Reid you don’t have to sneak a peak, just ask,” you say in a seductive tone while slowly spreading your legs. He slightly rolls his chair back to get a better view. He sees something shiny between your thighs. It takes a moment for him to realize that it's your slick catching the low light in his office. When he realises you skipped on underwear he grunts and stands up. He stands in between your spread thighs and puts his strong hands on your waist. “No underwear huh?” You blush and look away. 

He takes a hand and grabs your chin to look up at him. “You’re brave walking around campus like that.” “What can I say? You’re worth the risk.” Those suggestive words make Spencer lose all of his control. He grips your face with both of his hands and kisses you with fervor and passion. You kiss him back with the pent-up feelings you’ve been having all semester. You’ve never been kissed like this, it’s like he wants to swallow you whole. His tongue is tasting all of you like a man starved. When you pull back for air he doesn’t stop, just lowers his head and continues his assault on your neck. Sucking on your pulse point causes you to let out a moan, and he moans back. 

His eyes meet yours and he eagerly says, “Can I touch you?” “Please.” His lips find your neck again and he wastes no time putting his fingers to your clit. You moan immediately and he catches your mouth with his. He whispers against your lips, “Shh baby can’t have anyone hearing you. Gotta be quiet for me.” You nod eagerly and he continues devouring your neck. You have always had a fascination with his hands; feeling them against your most sensitive spot is quite literally a dream come true.

You pull him back up from your neck and connect your lips once again. You can’t get enough of him. His tongue dances with yours naturally, like muscle memory. As he draws shapes over your nerves your mind goes blank with bliss. Dr. Reid is taking up all of your senses. It’s as though he’s all you’ve ever known. You could die right now and be okay with it. 

You start to feel that familiar heat in your abdomen, feeling shocked at how quickly he got you here. A man has never been this successful with you before. Dr. Reid plunges two fingers inside of you unexpectedly, and you moan loudly into his mouth. He pauses his movements to whisper, “Be quiet little girl I’m not gonna tell you again.” It’s so hard to stay quiet with his beautiful hands in you and his perfect lips on you. If his fingers feel this good you can’t imagine how good his dick is going to feel. The way he’s slamming his fingers into you has tears of joy pricking at the corners of your eyes. You’re gripping the edge of his desk tight as if this moment will disappear when you let go. 

As his long fingers fill you up just right, his palm meets your clit in a delicious way. “Oh god doctor don’t stop” you instinctively moan. “Never baby, this is -oh- all for you.” He’s getting off by just providing you pleasure, you wonder how well this will benefit you in the future. His free hand grabs a handful of hair and pulls your head back. “Is this what you wanted little girl? Gave a ruse of extra credit just so I could fuck you with my hand?” You’re too drunk on him to form a coherent response, a string of moans pours out of your mouth instead. “I thought you were a smart girl huh? did I fuck you stupid?” No response, just a breathy moan. 

He feels your pussy tightening on him, “Oh my god Dr. Reid.” “Come for me, baby.” He starts kissing you again as you come. You truly thought this could only happen in your dreams. Making out with Dr. Reid while he finger-fucks you and you’re cumming all over his hands. Your vision goes white and you feel your soul rise out of your body. This is the best orgasm you’ve ever had. When you come back to earth, Dr. Reid's hand is still in your pussy and he is still kissing you. Your lips are barely moving at this point but he doesn’t care, he just wants to keep tasing you. 

You pull back from him and look at him amazed. He looks back at you concerned but then you just smile. You see him start to relax. “You okay?” “More than okay,” you say with a giggle. “Thank you, professor. That was truly educational.” “Oh yeah? What’d you learn?” “How your hands feel when they’re inside of me. It was even better than I hoped.” He smiles and gives you a quick kiss and grabs both of your hands. “Can you stand?” As you slide off his desk your knees buckle a little but the Doctor catches you and helps you stand up straight. “Sorry, I thought I’d fully recovered.” “Are you going to be okay getting home, y/n?” “Yeah, my apartment is only like a 10-minute walk.” 

“A ten-minute walk for someone your age is about half a mile! Please let me take you home.” “It’s okay Dr. Reid it’s a safe campus and I’m always aware of my surroundings.” “I don’t know it’s kind of late.” “I do this walk all the time when it’s dark. I’ll let my roommates know I’m coming home and to watch my location. I’ll be okay I promise.” He raises an eyebrow at you. He steps away from you for the first time since you got here to dig through his desk drawer. He pulls out sticky notes and a pen and jots something down quickly. “This is my cell phone number. Please text me once you’re home.” 

You are screaming on the inside when you grab the paper from him and your fingertips brush. Dr. Reids phone number!!! No way this is actually happening. You grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder before you say goodbye. “Thank you, Dr. Reid. This was fun.” “It’s always a pleasure Ms. y/l/n. Same time next week?” “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You smile, turn away from him, and walk out the door. 

a/n: thank you all so much for your support on this story! It means so much to me and makes me want to continue writing. Sorry this took so long, I had so many ideas it was hard to decide on which way to go with this story. Please keep liking and sharing and I would love more ideas!

Taglist: @beansarecooler @bubbleebubz thank you ily

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 || 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬

part one: the fallen fruit || part two: here

summary_after freeing Rome, you’ve lost Marcus Acacius, his baby and you are forced to marry Lucius Verus in order to freely rule as empress and visit Acacius’ grave

warnings_ CRINGE, age gap (legal) (I’m 20, sorry) historical inaccuracy, angst, sexism and misogyny, fluff but angst, a lot of canon divergence bc I said so. ANGST ANGST I CRIED WHILE WRITING THIS

note_ that’s it, it’s official, Paul Mescal my new bf, don’t you ever make me write a fic where I knowledge any Pedro character’s death (even if it’s canon) listen to 13 beaches pls

♪ ♫ Pedro playlist

♫ ♪ Paul playlist

✰ Index (+ fics here)

𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸

Once your eyes opened, reality struck you in the harshest possible way. This time, no one was there to tend your wounds. Although they weren’t severe, they had dozed you off for days. You heard Lucilla’s scream and you closed your eyes, knowing your love was dead.

Numbness assaulted you, nausea struck you and you heard everyone gasping in horror as their beloved general’s body collapsed in the arena.

Hours after Marcus Acacius’ died, you lost his baby as well.

A day later, Rome was freed. Lucius Verus became the new emperor and you caught a fatal fever when the sun came down.

That night, death seemed like the most convenient alternative. You had lost everything you had fought for over the years. The man you loved and the prospective children were taken from you before you could’ve claimed them.

Something changed when you woke up. Like time has passed so rapidly that the pain from the loss of Acacius and your baby has healed. But as soon as you think about the would’ve, could’ve, should’ve… you start sobbing.

It’s a bright morning and the city sounds peaceful. Everyone has moved on. And you know you’ll have to. Only that, you don’t know how.

With your brother’s death, your lover and baby’s, everyone was gone.

Lucius is alive…

There’s a knock on the door and soon it opened.

A man should never intrude into a woman’s chamber he had no relationship with.

“Ah. Princess y/n you’re awake….” He says uncomfortably. You didn’t knew his name, but had been running as a politician for several years.

“I suppose I’m no longer a princess”

“Trials are happening right now, the senate is a disaster but we’re handling it okay. Lucius Verus Aurelius refuses to be crown emperor but he has argued in your favor and you have been found not guilty, but you face conspiracy charges. Consequently, you’re still a princess. And the only person we can rely on according to the law…”

You sigh, looking away from the old man to focus on the tapestry that hangs from a wall. It has a naked woman’s statue in the middle of a garden. A woman being the center of attention.

You were the maximum authority at the moment. But you still had barriers to break.

“What did you do with the corpses of my brothers?” perhaps your siblings weren’t the most lovable people, but you grew up with them. They were your last remaining family.

“Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla rest in the secluded area of the cemetery of Rome. Where the punished are buried…” you nod.

They deserved punishment, but still, an odd sensation in your stomach rested, feeling shame and pity for your brothers.

Where did the good one go? An imaginary little light sparkles upon your eyes.

“And General Acacius?”

“In his Death Will, General Acacius stated that he wanted to be buried alone in one of the islands belonging to Rome” Your eyes water and you have to bite your tongue and gulp to calm your tears.

Where he had wanted to build a home with you.

“His wife Lucilla was buried in the neighbor island upon petition” You nod, trying to sit down. You finally spot the cuts and sewed arm. Fighting Pretorials had been more difficult than participating in the war.

Alongside Marcus…

“I would like to visit his grave. Marcus Acacius’s grave” Your voice sounded broken and you could barely see the man, failing to hide your growing tears.

“There is one problem, princess y/n. Until you’re officially crown empress, you can’t leave Rome and command without being considered charged, despite being not guilty. You must marry first and I’m afraid the only suitor is Lucius Verus Aurelius”

The man that made you feel so much in no time. Who made you feel like you could be for once unconditionally loved. And that maybe Acacius was not your downfall. Maybe you had one more chance to nourish your wounded heart.

You suppress a smile. You want to see him and talk. See if he felt the same way about you and if he did, it would be a new beginning.

“Where is he?” You ask trying to hide your excitement.

“The prince is back in Numidia. He wanted to give a proper burial to his friends and his late wife especially”

The little smile on your face disappears and you look down. Unbeknownst to the man standing in front of you, you felt shame. For believing Lucius would be waiting for you.

“How so?”

“He was given permission to go back with an audience from the council” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“And why he was allowed to go to territory that is not declared Roman by the law yet…. But I can’t go to an island that is less than four hours away, claimed by the empire hundreds of years ago?”

The man gulps, seemingly uncomfortable by your sudden snapping. Your heart beats in anxiety and the anger increases. The first minutes after you awake you already feel the burden of your new present.

“Because he’s an heir…” to that, you can only sigh. Knowing the real answer.

“And I’m a heiress. I’m… a woman”

Rome was free. But as a woman, you probably never would.

“I suggest you rest and prepare for his arrival, princess. You’ll want to be ravishing to negotiate and assume the wedding”

“I haven’t decided if I’ll marry Lucius Verus Aurelius”

“It’s not like you have much of a choice, princess. I’ll send a doctor to check on you” The bitter tone of the man made you frown. You quietly curse him as he leaves the room.

Finally alone again. Like it seemed it would be for the rest of your life.

You should’ve run faster the first time you tried to escape Rome. You should’ve climbed that wall higher, maybe, just maybe none of your disgraces would’ve happened.

You had to go to Marcus’ grave. You had to say goodbye to him. Tell him all the things you couldn’t say the last time. Because he deserved it. To let him know that no matter where your baby and he were, you would always love them.

Lucius meant nothing, you try to lie to yourself.

I won’t be part of a deal, you remember as you look at the renewed Rome.

Suddenly you realize no matter whom you decide to love, you’re always the lover, not the wife.

Always the second option, never the one.

…

Four days later, you realized you had no other choice but to attend the hearing that would determine your future. Where you would face Lucius. If you had seen him once again before he left, many things could’ve been different, you liked to think.

But given the circumstances, you had no desire to see him again. You barely knew the man, of course, he would choose his wife first even when she was dead.

Your mind betrayed you with the idea of Lucius using you just all those nights to find a way to get out of the Colosseum. No matter what, he didn’t visit you, he didn’t bother to see if you were okay. Likely, he never knew you had fallen ill.

Everyone left you behind.

Happened once as a little girl who fell for her best friend, once as a teenager who fell for an older officer who turned General and once as a young woman who fell for a gladiator and turned out to be a missing prince.

With golden brackets that cover your arms and the heaviest earrings, you nervously walked through the long marble halls of the justice building. Near the temple of the god of war, there rested the place where justice was brought.

A guard opened the door for you and once you stepped in, the room was already full.

Every man inside stood up to greet you with a little reverence and you could feel a migraine already coming.

But when your eyes found a blue pair of aquamarine diamonds looking piercingly at you, the anger mixed with nervousness.

Immediately you look away from the prince. As you took a seat at the end of the long table, you could feel him everywhere. As if Lucius was silently begging for you to look at him.

“We reunite here to revoke any charges and penalties addressed to Prince and Princess; Lucius Verus Aurelius and y/n y/l/n”

You barely hear the man speaking, you were only waiting to hear the next part.

“From the power the senate gave us and by the guidance of the gods, said charges and penalties will be revoked by uniting the prince and princess in sacred marriage. Everyone who agrees says accipio…” everyone says the word, and you close your eyes trying to avoid huffing or ending up screaming in disagreement. Your father ascended to the throne rightfully. Every politician voted for him. When he died your brothers were young and naive and remained as so throughout their rule. Your only crime was to conspire against the empire along with Acacius when he was alive.

All a big nonsense.

“Hear hear, now… Do you Lucius Verus Aurelius agree to the terms of conditions of this agreement?” you look up to see the man. He looked different.

His wounds were healing, his hair looked trimmed, his beard styled. Without sweat, blood, and dirt covering his face, he looked gorgeous. Like an actual prince.

Lucius also looks at you. You can’t tell how he feels, but his eyes look hopeful. And his lips are slightly tilted. Was he trying to smile at you?.

“Accipio…” he says, looking away from you.

Your lips sealed shape a full face of anger.

“Do you y/n y/l/n agree to the terms of conditions of these agreements?”

“I would like to resign to my titles”

Gasps could be heard, and a mixture of shock and disapproval was all over the men at the table.

Lucius looks with curiosity at you. But you can see he’s also shocked.

“Princess y/n… you can’t resign” a man says and you roll your eyes.

“Exile me if needed. I can also recommend a handful of women who would be perfect suitors for Lucius Verus Aurelius” As much as you tried to sound calm, you sounded enraged.

“Then I won’t sign the agreement…” Lucius says looking at the same man who spoke first, then at you.

You eye him with confusion, he crosses his strong arms and he intimidates you with his strong gaze.

“I want you or nothing” he admits with tranquility. Which makes you even angrier. But also make your cheeks turn hot after feeling every man in the room exchange awkward looks.

How could he act so cooky and shameless?

Before you can say another thing, you are interrupted.

“If none of you agree, your charges and penalties will prevail. That would lead to several trials, where both of you could end up with death penalties despite being two rightful heirs”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh.

You’re so tired, drained from everything.

But you won’t give any man the satisfaction to see you crumbling.

Never again…

“You may constrain me all you want, Lucius Verus Aurelius. But you won’t hear what you want from me today”

The poison filling your voice intoxicated everyone, leaving the room flooding with awkwardness and uncertainty. Lucius and you share looks. There’s an odd warmth that makes you remember how good he was when you first met him. He is not a bad man. But you fell in love with him and overrated him so early.

With the silence reigning, the sound of your chair sliding as you stood up drew all the attention to you again. But you didn’t face anyone, you simply left.

The air hit you and you could already feel the tears threatening to spill.

It’s a shame because it seemed like it was a good day for Rome. You can hear kids playing nearby, and people selling goods while the clear sky warmed the afternoon.

“You really don’t know why I want you, y/n?” You hear behind your back, Lucius approaching with heavy steps, making you wipe your eyes before you turn around to see him.

“I would say to gain power. But I know you don’t want that so no… I’m clueless. All I know is I won’t be part of a deal when all my life I’ve lounged for love”

“I can’t believe you don’t remember…” he responds and you frown, disappointed that he has ignored your words. So rudely, you move away, farther from him.

“Who was there when you fell ill after breaking your bones?” your eyes almost pop out, you stop walking only to slowly turn around again and eye him in shock.

“Who was there when you used to escape the palace and needed someone to accompany you back?” Lucius pleads with every word he lets out, he walks towards you and tries to grab your hands but you slip away from his touch, defying him.

In your shock, you can only sigh as memories start reminiscing in your head. A childhood love that couldn’t be. Which involved some feelings you thought had no meaning. But sure they had. More than you wanted to admit as an adult.

Lucius Aurelius Verus was that little boy that you fell in love with as a child. That little boy disappeared without saying goodbye. A boy you thought you’d never see again.

“I left you and resented it all my life, y/n. Now I can be here for you again. Allow me to retrieve the memories we had…” This time you weren’t fast enough to prevent his touch.

He feels warm and at home. His fingers are calloused and his raspy fingertips slowly caress your knuckles. You want to hold him in your arms and cry from happiness. You want to curse him for making you believe he was dead.

But you are selfish after so much pain.

“Why you didn’t say anything when we met again?” You coldly ask, freezing the warmth he has built.

“I needed to know I could trust you first,” he says apologetically.

There’s so much to talk about. Never in your dreams, you thought you’d have the boy you loved once now turned into a man you must marry.

“Please, y/n. We’ll meet each other again, fill the empty promises we made years ago”

“You knew I was alive all this time. Why did you never come for me? We could have escaped. If I had known you were alive, a lot of my suffering could’ve been prevented” he looks away, he feels guilty.

“You married, Lucius. You were happy before Rome conquered Numidia. And I won’t diminish the death of her. But you moved on… like I never existed”

He grabs both of your hands but you move away.

“I thought you were safe. I had no chance of getting you back, that’s why I married. But when I saw you again at the celebration where I had my first fight…” even when he sounds convincingly remorseful, you still keep the distance.

“I don’t care, Lucius. The only thing I want now is to say goodbye to the only love that mattered while you were gone. I can’t visit his grave now for the charges, and when I marry you, I won’t be able to visit his grave because of it. Don’t act like you are not wanting me as your second choice”

If only you knew, Lucius thought as he watched you leave.

…

As a kid, your father would be delighted whenever you danced in the celebrations he hosted. Your brother Geta and Caracalla would sneak in and try to ruin your performance, they weren’t allowed to attend the parties because of their mother; a whore. Your father’s ginger hair had not spread across the twins’ heads and they certainly not looked anything like your mother. There was a snake hidden in the basket of flowers you carried while dancing. But a gentleman realized earlier and as soon as you dropped it because of the bite, he took you to the doctor. And that night you developed a little crush for the officer Marcus Acacius.

Soon you forgot about the older man when you took food and made your way out of the palace. Near the stables, you had found a safe place. Where you always met with who refused to tell you his name.

So you always called him amicus. You could only refer to him as a friend.

“Amicus…” you called him.

Soon he appeared, with burnt blonde hair, blue eyes, and his kind smile.

“What happened to your hand?” he asked pointing at your bandaged extremity.

“Geta and Caracalla placed a snake on my flower basket”

Your friend huffed, clearly annoyed that they tried to hurt you again.

“I wish I could be there, I would always protect you”

You smiled, caressing his face. You were no stranger to his proximity. At the rough age of nine years old, you two had grown a big friendship.

“But you’re always here for me, amicus”

“I won’t be always…” you frowned confused.

That was the last night you saw your friend; Lucius.

You shake your head, pushing aside the memories. Realizing you are once again in a party, but your father is gone. Nobody sits on the throne, your twin brothers are not around to try to banish you. There is no Acacius to help you and you are no longer a kid.

You wonder why Lucilla never told you his son was alive. That he was your best friend. You understand that probably she didn’t trust you enough, given that you looked like you were on your brother’s side most of the time. Although the reality was very different.

Lucius arrived at the celebration with many people trying to talk to him. His tone was kind, but he felt overwhelmed responding to the variety of questions thrown at his face.

Having all the attention resulted in frustration. He was no god and Rome started seeing him as such thing.

He was a humble man, despite growing up knowing he was a prince, he was accustomed to the peaceful farming life in Numidia. He married and thought he would die as a farmer. But even when he finished a rough day of tending his sprouts and counting seeds, mostly he would go to sleep thinking about you.

Lucius never forgot the little girl he found pacing through the secret passages under Rome. Surely he always knew you were a princess, you were alive and well within the walls of the city he grew to hate.

He thought he was correct in never telling you who he really was. He had no chance to say goodbye, he was forced to leave. For a lot of years, he thought he would never be able to fall in love again, but he found a new love.

As soon as he married, he tried to forget about you. And as much as he loved his wife, he always went back to you. Wondering if you were also married, if you remained as beautiful as you were as a kid, or if you missed him like he missed you.

His answers were given to him when he saw you eating figs and softly arguing with one of your red-haired brothers.

Lucius swore his heart stopped a few seconds before he had to fight under the demand of Macrinus. When he recited poetry, he understood you didn’t know who he was. He locked eyes with you for too long, which made you frown and exchange confused looks with Geta.

But he did a good job because you went to visit him later, realizing you knew only half of the truth.

Lucius never stopped loving you.

He watched you twirl around in a purple dress and he couldn’t help but smile. His need to know who you had transformed into was eating him. The curiosity over your love affair with Acacius and how you ended up on the battlefront of war killing him. And he wished nothing buy you to understand that destiny wanted you to be separated but now there was a chance to heal together and be together.

Although it seemed like you were beyond hurt. Only makes Lucius feel guilty for some reason.

A man from the senate reveals to the party you and Lucius are officially engaged and he knows you must be boiling in anger. Lucius tries to go and talk to you. Assure you that he wasn’t involved in the early announcement. He wanted your consent and forcing you would never fix your anger and resentment.

But when he tried to reach you, you were gone. And he knew to where.

To visit Acacius’ grave.

…

With white roses and a dirty cloak, you arrive at the island. Is smaller than you thought. It’s just a hill.

No gold, no ostentatious mausoleum, just a little mark in the middle of the hill that over the centuries would be swallowed by the Earth. There rests Marcus Acacius.

You swallow hard, hoping to get there before your legs betray you and you end up on the grass crying. After hearing the announcement of the engagement, you sprinted out of there making a mess of fury. Your desire to say goodbye to your love would never become a reality. So you took matters into your own hands and risked three hours of absence in Rome.

Each step adds a little more pain to your chest and you want to leave as fast as possible.

But you remain silent, looking at the little plaque.

Not even beloved General of Rome. Just his name.

“I don’t regret saying that I hated you the last time we talked…” you start, biting your cheek from the inside and frowning, competing against the tears that were already coming.

“I closed my eyes so hard to pretend I wasn’t witnessing your death” The chilly air makes you shriek, it also makes some scary sounds as you talk.

“We had a baby, Acacius. I suppose conceived in Athens. He left me hours after you did. I guess he sensed my bad luck…” you coldly say, attempting to joke with the silence.

“Not of importance anymore. I just came to say goodbye. To thank you for training me, and for making me a strong woman. Thank you for loving me the wrong way…”

“You can rest now, Marcus. Your death was worth it, Rome is free. But I’m not…” Finally, your voice breaks and you start sobbing, weeping, and crying so loudly that your lungs hurt.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be strong enough to come back again, Acacius. Your death will always be the loss of my life but our baby is my little hope. To always remind me that I was very close to having you…” with your legs trembling, you stand up and grab the basket. The flowers are gently placed and your tears fall over his name, washing the accumulated dirt.

“I’ll move on. Because I know that’s what you would’ve wanted. I’ll keep your memory alive. And I’ll never love the same way I did with you. You earned it, Marcus. In life and death…”

Dried from all the tears, suddenly you felt less weight on your shoulders. You feel light and in peace.

In that hill would rest the memories of your past, of the love you gave to that General and what could’ve been.

You leave in silence. And when you step foot in the boat again, you have the strength to smile and realize that you don’t care about anything anymore.

The sense of everything comes into question.

Nothing can hurt you anymore.

…

He’s there when you step a foot into the salty shores of Rome. Lucius looks worried. He gives confident steps until he’s facing you.

“You went to that island. Didn’t you?” He asks judging you, which makes you frown.

“I did…”

“Why are you risking yourself? I had to tell everyone you felt ill” You roll your eyes, not handling his words with patience.

“I have nothing to lose, Lucius. I don’t care anymore if I die right now…” he huffs and slides his fingers through his blonde hair, exasperated.

“Why can you understand you’re the one I want? I want you to be safe. But you can’t stop acting like there is no hope left. Why?”

You finally explode.

“BECAUSE I’M HURT!. You know my brothers never loved me, I thought I had you and you disappeared. I spent years in love with Acacius and when he finally looked down at me, he never chose me above your mother. But he wanted to give me a house, a family. I lost him and that night I lost our baby too, I didn’t even know I was with child. And now everyone’s gone, you’re back but I feel like you are just choosing me because you have no choice” Your lungs so tired of your crying make you ache as you end up sobbing once again.

Lucius immediately places his arms around you. And it’s the first hug someone gives you in a long time. So you sob harder and slide your arms to hold him closer.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry” he whispers in your ear, one of his hands caressing the back of your head, fingers sliding through your hair.

“You’re not my second option. You were always the first. I choose you all or nothing because I couldn’t before. And now that I have you in my arms, I’m never letting you go”

Lucius feels like the home you never experienced but always dreamed of. His words start soothing you. His words feel bigger, like an oath this time. A healed promise of the one he made as a kid.

“When I looked at you again, I remembered that little girl I used to play with. With her dazzling hair and loving eyes” you look away, to the shore. You never liked receiving compliments.

“Look at me…” his fingers grab your chin and gently, he makes you look at him but you close your eyes after briefly meeting his eyes.

Just like the first time, you get lost in his blue irises. Blue like the sea you traveled, like the sea you once thought would be your way to freedom.

“Please look at me, y/n,” he says pleading, with his warm touch you know you won’t be able to oppose any longer.

Slowly you open your eyes and finally accept his gaze.

“You loved another man and I loved another woman. But we had already marked each other’s hearts before we met them”

Slowly, you nod. He smiles and wipes the tears from your eyes. He looks so gorgeous. You know he means every word. Only a man who did everything to save his mother and free a city would make such a big promise to a woman and beg.

You caress his strong jawline, ignoring the way his beard tickles at your fingers. You smile back at him.

“I love you”

Before he could finish, you kissed him.

…

You hadn’t thought back on your love Acacius in months, but that morning you dedicated the bright sky to him. You hope he’s happy for you.

You look at yourself in a mirror and smile at your reflection.

“Are you ready?” Lucius asked entering the room. Your smile grows at the sight of him dressed in gold and a crown in his head. He also eyes your dress and you blush at the way he is mentally undressing you.

Your husband is possessive, kind, brave, and an emperor.

“Stop staring like that…” he looks back at your eyes and it makes you chuckle.

“Come here…” he pleads and when you try to kiss him you both hear a tiny yelp.

“Oh Lucilla, I’m just trying to kiss your father��”

You had birthed a daughter two months ago in Egypt. And was named after Lucius’ mother. She had matted hair the same color as you and she had the blue eyes of his father.

“I’ll get her…” Lucius carried her and leaned to let you look at yourself tiny baby yawning, as she had woken up from a little nap. Her tiny hands flirt fists and her face scrunched in slumber.

She was a winter baby and every citizen of Rome was waiting to meet the daughter of the emperor and empress.

“So fussy like her father…” you claimed, making Lucius roll his eyes at you.

He had grown patient. A perfect partner and father. You felt lucky and blessed to have him. Thinking all the pain was worth it. Your head would now and then think back on what could’ve been if Acacius had survived, and his baby as well.

But you accepted that in this life, he wasn’t meant to be yours. So you prayed to meet him again in the next one. But for now, you were in the arms of your first love.

“I love you, Lucius…” he seemed lightly surprised, as he was the one that says it more often. But he knows he looks so clumsy and in love.

“Not more than me…” you kiss your daughter’s cheek and then your husband, making him softly gasp as you deepen the kiss.

“Don’t do this to me now, y/n…” you giggle, taking the baby from his arms and leading the way towards the door.

“Wait, satis… I know it’s nonsensical to ask at this point but…Do you think I’m being good at this?” Lucius asks pointing at little Lucilla, you sigh, walking back towards him.

“My love, there is no way of being good at this. But if she knows that we love her and that we’ll be here for her forever, is enough…”

He had his doubts a couple of months after the wedding when you got pregnant.

“You don’t know how proud and thankful I am of you. You decided to agree and give me a family after so much pain, satis” You form a smile grin, opting to avoid the memories of your old love. Because that was the past, sacred to you but still the past.

“We deserved it, Lucius.” He nods, taking your free hand.

“I have the feeling that this one will be a boy…” you say pointing at your still-flat stomach.

“Whatever it is… as long as you’re the mother, it’ll be okay”

You both exit the room hand in hand, hearing the excited crowd outside waiting.

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PAUL X PEDRO X READER FIC IS COMING, COMMENT TO BE TAGGED :)

I won’t ever ever ever write a fanfic where a Pedro character dies again. NEVER AGAIN! I don’t care if you think this was cringe, I cried a lot while writing on different days. I love Lucius but in my head Acacius never died, so from now on if I write for him, he WON’T DIE.

[bernardsbendystraws]

Fresh Air

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Check out my pinned post for more of my writing.

00 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 FINAL

Summary: One night at a party seems to change everything. A strange man with a friendly smile and a sleeve of patchwork tattoos seems to make you feel at home for a change. You're finally happy to have made a good friend to lean on - especially when it comes to your not-so-great relationship with your boyfriend. But what happens if you lean too much...what happens if you fall?

Warnings: 18+. This series contains mature themes, read at your own risk. (SMUT, angst, parental troubles, financial hardships, and more. Don't like, don't read.) This warning is made for all parts.

A/N: To be added to the taglist, send a request in my inbox or comment on the pinned post. I'm far more likely to see requests sent to my inbox.

With love and big tits, Rose.

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05: Building Up Like Waves

I was still in Matt’s hoodie. And under his blankets. 

We had gone on a walk and Matt had let me yapp the entire time. He even wanted me to talk the whole car ride too. Wrong turns had made the quick ten minute drive from the park somehow turn into over an hour. 

I knew what he was doing. 

Those weren’t wrong turns. I doubt he didn’t have any fun stories to catch me up on from the past week, but he didn’t interrupt me once. I couldn’t complain. I felt even better somehow. It wasn’t all being trapped in my head anymore and it didn’t feel so lonely to think about that night.

I didn’t feel lonely at all. 

“Hey, where’s my toothbrush?” I ask, shuffling around in the top left drawer of his bathroom vanity. It’s usually here–in the little tray next to his, but it’s empty. I don’t even see his toothbrush. 

“Well,” Matt starts. By the tone in his voice my lips already start to curl upward. What is he up to? Anticipation pokes at my skin as I watch him pull something from behind his back while standing in the doorway. “-I got these…” 

A break of giggles from my end makes my gut hurt. I feel my hand clutch onto my stomach through the soft, thick fabric of his hoodie. 

“Matt–” I snort harder, grabbing the toothbrush packages from his hand. “Why the–”

“For fun!” he exclaims, his hands waving in the air dramatically. His lips smack and part with mischief and pride as he watches me hunch over with laughter again. “--do you,” he snickers, “--do you not like ‘em?” he asks. 

Straightening my posture, I place the two small packages on the bathroom counter, my hands flying up and messing up his hair. “Of course I love them you idiot!” I announce, laughing softly as Matt’s hands wrap around my wrists and pull my hands to his chest gently. 

“I…” My eyes meet his as he looks up at me with a sparkling joy. His hands hold mine a little tighter as he keeps his gaze pinned on me, his lips pressing gently onto my knuckles as I swallow thickly. “I–”

“You…” Matt interrupts, squinting his eyes with a flourishing excitement as I stammer over my words. 

Shaking my head, I let out a sigh of disbelief as I push against his chest, “I can’t believe you got us character themed toothbrushes. The ones they get for kids!” 

His chest rumbles with hushed laughter as he twiddles his fingers around my hands. “I know, isn’t it fun though? You said you never got one as a kid,” he says. 

I never got one as a kid, I barely even remembered telling him that. 

But, he remembered. 

He always remembered because he always cared. I didn’t even have to ask for him to care. 

What if I hadn’t said yes to Hayden that day? What if Matt and I had…

No.

Bad thoughts. 

That’s cheating. 

Is this cheating?

“I, um…” I try to retrace my steps as overflowing thoughts flood my brain. It was just a thought. “--I can’t believe you remembered,” I remark, my tone reeking of the tooth-rotting smile covering my face. 

I can’t believe he cared enough to remember and do something so minor just to give me that piece of…innocence. 

Looking back up, my chest tightens as I feel his gaze pour onto me with intensity. It’s a toothbrush—a fucking toothbrush. 

I can feel tears pricking the corner of my eyes with warmth from overwhelming emotions. Happiness with something lingering sadness. I got it now—he thought I deserved to have such a stupid thing—a toothbrush. Why didn’t my parents?  

Why didn’t I?

Buying toothpaste always made me a little sad–buying anything always made me a little sad. I saw all the colorful, nostalgic things. The things I never got. It’s not like my family had been broke either. They were just cheap. The other toothbrushes did the same thing. It wasn’t necessary. 

But they bought other things. My parents bought fancy cruises, all the luxuries some people dreamed about. 

All the luxuries that didn’t really last. 

Those trips were only a glimpse of what things could be. Dad would be happy to finally be away from work—one of the few occasions we truly laughed together—not talked, laughed. I couldn’t remember one meaningful conversation with him. 

And mom…she was somehow worse. 

She stood and watched him step on my innocence, crushing my hopes everytime he ignored me or yelled. 

I just wanted her to be there for me—I didn’t realize anything was wrong until a lot later than I should’ve.

Just like now. 

This wasn’t right. Hayden had no right to put that kind of pressure on me for sex. 

“Hey…are you…are you okay?” 

Reality.

I’m here—with Matt. A stupid, Pokemon toothbrush staring at me practically. 

“I just—I’m about to cry over a fucking toothbrush,” I exclaim, laughing as a tear falls from my cheek. 

“Don’t!” I start, lifting up my hand as I aggressively use the sleeve of the hoodie to brush away the warm tears. “--don’t. This is embarrassing. This isn’t happening,” I joke. 

Matt’s head shakes back and forth with humorous disbelief. He cups my cheeks in both his hands, softly wiping the tear stains as I stare up at the ceiling. 

“Hey—it’s okay. I…I’m sorry, but it’s funny—it’s cute,” he laughs.

Cute.

He thinks it’s cute?

A blush covers my cheeks before I can stop it. My widened eyes watch as he hunches over with giggles spilling from his lips profusely. Shame paints over my face as I push his hands away and cover my face with my hands. 

“Ugh!” 

My loud ruff seems to catch his attention. The burn of embarrassment bubbling in the pit of my gut leaves my muscles tensing as I feel his grab my wrist lightly and hold them as if he’s praying. 

“No, no—” his eyes pour into mine with apologetic sympathy as he tries to keep a straight face, “--just, let’s brush our teeth and go to bed.” 

Nodding in agreement, I watch with a warm heart as he unpackages the toothbrushes. He puts a line of toothpaste on the bristles. With a soft smile, he outreaches it to me. 

And I didn’t even have to ask. 

Matt smiles at me in the mirror as I swirl the brush along my teeth. It feels refreshing.

__________

The cool night air contrasted with the heat swarming beneath the comforter. 

Fuck, it’s hot. 

“Mmph, I…” 

Oh.

Matt’s hands are clutching into my hips, a hard bulge grinding into my core as my mouth drops wide. 

God, it feels like fucking heaven. 

The fog of sleep clouding my mind leaves me with nothing but instinct, my own hips swiveling to combat his motions. My head cranes back against his chest, his warm breath tickling behind my ear. 

He’s so hard. 

Hayden.

Fuck. This is wrong.

This is definitely wrong. 

“I…Matt,” I croak, whispering into the air as my hands latch over his wrists. 

Silence. Quiet air is only broken by muffled whines vibrating against my neck where his lips hover.

He’s still asleep. 

“Doll….-’m…close…” 

Doll. 

The name he likes to call me. 

Only me. 

He’s dreaming about me.

Matt’s hips drive faster, rocking and tensing as hard as possible. The blistering warmth crawling in my chest is overwhelming, but intoxicating. 

He’s close. So close. The desperate moans, his hands clutching even tighter and pulling me closer—he’s so close.

“Matt, wake—”

My words hitch as his nails dig into my skin, his hips tensing more and more. 

Wake him up.

The three-worded chant is clouded by every sensation—his hair tickling my ear, his lips puffing against my neck, and…his hard, clothed cock rutting against the growing heat between my legs. 

Nothing like this has ever felt like this. 

I can’t think….I can’t stop.

A broken whine echoes from my lips as I feel a warm liquid smother through the thin pajama pants, a lengthened groan stringing from him against my neck. It feels so good. 

It feels so good making him feel so good. 

Doll. The name he only calls me. He’s thinking of me, holding me. He wants me subconsciously.

Does he want me consciously too?

Hayden. Fuck.

Guilt creeps in as I feel Matt fall limp and unmoving. Even breaths from his chest press against me. The huffed breaths turn into soft snores, the same snore that made it easier to feel at peace. 

This is wrong. This is so utterly wrong. 

Despite the growing pit in my gut, my eyes lose more and more while trying to fight gravity. It’s just so warm—so intoxicating. It doesn’t feel like anything is wrong when I’m in his arms. 

Even the guilt doesn’t compare to the amount of peace. 

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Life is like a Box of Chocolates || LandOscar

Summary: When you take an edible chocolate with your boyfriends it has an unexpected side effect. Warnings: 18+ only, edibles, smut, oral (both), mmf. WC: 2. 3k

The box looked inconspicuous enough. 

Oscar turned the packaging over and read through the ingredients while you and Lando opened three individually wrapped treats. They looked like any other boutique chocolate you had tried but this one promised more than a sugar high. 

“Bottoms up,” Lando said with a grin. 

You tapped your square of chocolate against his with a reciprocal smile. “I hope so.” 

You both bit into the treats and moaned at the decadent richness that coated your tongue. You couldn’t even taste the drug that would absorb slowly into your system, leaving you with a long lasting high that would surely make the boring dinner party better. 

“Oh my god, that was so good!” you hummed as you licked your fingers clean and found Lando had finished his too. 

Oscar chuckled as he saw a spot of chocolate in the corner of Lando’s lips and kissed it clean before grabbing his own piece. “We normally take half.”

“You’ve never been to this event before, trust me, you’ll need a whole one,” Lando assured him, taking the chocolate and guiding it to Oscar’s parted lips himself. 

Your body started to heat in response to the small sounds Oscar made as Lando fed him. “Why are you two teasing me? You know we don’t have time to play before the car gets here.”

Reluctantly, Oscar pulled away and swallowed his mouthful before returning to pack up the box. He opened the box again and put the few remaining wrappers back in, before noticing the instruction booklet under the tray. “Uh, guys, I don’t think this was weed,” he mutters.

“What do you mean?” Lando said with a laugh. “This is the box Daniel said to get.”

“Wait, Danny?” You hoped you hadn’t heard correctly. “The same Danny who has been trying to get back at you for the prank in Vegas?”

Lando laughed and shook his head, but realisation seemed to slowly dawn on his face and he snatched the box out of Oscar’s hands. His eyes scanned across the page of tiny disclaimers until it fluttered with his shaking hands. 

“What did you give us, Lando?” you asked as you looked between both of your boyfriends. “Osc?”

“Okay, so, don’t panic,” Oscar’s words immediately made your heart start pumping faster and he pulled you into his arms to draw soothing circles over your back. “It’s fine, baby. You might just feel a little…”

“What?”

“Horny,” Lando answered for him before he couldn’t suppress his laugh any longer. “I’m going to get him for this.”

“You don’t sound very worried,” you said to Lando before looking at Oscar. Obviously, he was never one to worry so he just shrugged.

“I’ll take care of you if you need it,” he promised.

—

“I can’t tell if this is the chocolate or me,” you grumbled as you sat between your boyfriends in the backseat of the car. Your hands gripped their thighs in an effort to keep them from roaming any higher, but it was a losing battle. 

“That’s just you, baby, it said it could take an hour to kick in,” Lando said, fiddling with his tie again. “Why do these have to be so tight?”

“He says it like he didn’t asked to be choked last night,” Oscar chuckled, reaching over your shoulder to tuck the tie back under his collar. “Now relax.”

“That was the plan,” Lando said with a roll of his eyes. “I’m going to fucking kill Danny.”

“Worry about that later, we’re here.”

You accepted Oscar’s hand and stepped out after him to the flash of cameras. It was hard not to feel inadequate when you were standing beside two of the most handsome men you had ever met, but when they curled their arms around your waist and whispered sweet words the worry fell away. 

“You look so beautiful, darling,” Lando said softly as he brushed his lips over your cheek. “I’m having a hard time keeping this PG-13.”

Oscar caught his finger under Lando’s chin and turned his hungry eyes away from you. “Stop looking at each other like that, you’re not the only one having a hard time,” he groaned. You couldn’t help glancing down his body but the black suit pants hid the ‘hard time’ he was growing in them. “Stop looking at me like that,” he warned. 

“I can’t help that I am infatuated with you two,” you said innocently, a sweet smile drawing his attention to your kissable lips. “Tsk, tsk, stop looking at me like that, Osc. Have some self control.”

Lando laughed and led you away from Osc as he tipped his head back with a silent prayer to survive the evening with his brats. When he had his composure back, he scanned the area for you but in those short seconds you and Lando had disappeared into the busy venue. “Fuck,” he groaned before beginning his search.

The crowd of businessmen swallowed you whole and it was only Lando’s hand that kept you from being swept away as he followed the bodies into the venue. His stiff back that you tucked in behind was the only outward sign that he hated the event but it was a night that couldn’t be avoided as McLaren needed investors to continue its growth. 

“Drink, love?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Only if it’s strong,” you winked. He smirked before suddenly changing direction and towing you towards the bar. “Shit!”

Lando turned quicker than your eyes could follow and he was glaring at the shocked stranger who stared at the damp splash in your dress. It would have made you laugh if the dress wasn’t worth more than your monthly pay and currently freezing from the icy drink that now decorated your bodice. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” the man apologised. 

“You didn’t see her?” Lando asked in disbelief. He couldn't understand how anyone could miss the most beautiful person in the room. 

“It-it’s just water,” he stammered as he reached to brush the water drops away but Lando caught his wrist before he could touch you. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I wasn’t paying attention,” you said as you peered around for the bathrooms before spotting the arrow pointing down a hall. “Come on, Lan.”

“Watch where you are going next time,” Lando imparted the advice as he turned with you, feeling your elbow nudge into his ribs at the attitude. “What? There is no way he didn’t see you. Everyone else can’t take their eyes off you.”

You rolled your eyes at the idea and stepped into the room as he opened the door for you. “It’s you they are staring at,” you corrected.

He slipped inside the powder room behind you and checked the attached room for the toilet was empty before he attacked. His lips threatened to ruin your makeup as he pinned you between his body and the wall, grinding himself along your front until your eyes fluttered shut. “You don’t see what I do,” he murmured between his heated kisses to your neck. His hand ran up your thigh, finding the slit in the dress so it could climb higher and brush the edge of your panties. “So fucking sexy and everyone knows you’re mine.”

A throat cleared and your eyes flew open to see Oscar leaning back against the door, an amused smirk on his lips as he watched the show unfold. “Yours?” he taunted as he snapped the lock into place.

“Ours,” Lando accentuated with his usual sass that had Oscar pushing off from the door and crossing the distance in two long strides. 

Desire was pooling at your core as you watched Oscar’s hand envelope Lando’s throat and pull him closer. Their lips collided with a fierce need to determine dominance and Lando tried to fight it before he succumbed to Oscar with a moan. Satisfied, Oscar pulled back to see Lando’s pupils blown out and a breathy whimper escaped his swollen lips. 

“You are both mine,” Oscar clarified before his eyes danced over your body and noticed the wet material. “What happened?”

“Some idiot spilt his drink on her.”

Oscar grabbed a hand towel from the shelf and started to dab away as much moisture as he could but every brush of the material sent little bolts of lightning across your body. Suddenly it felt like your body was on fire and you bit your lip as the flames reached your core.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned as the last touch caught the underside of your beast and it felt heavy with need. “Do that again, please.”

Lando was feeling the same heated effects course through his veins as the chocolates reacted with his body. “I think it’s been an hour,” he chuckled, reaching for the stiff peak he could see pressing against the thin material of your dress. He brushed the back of his knuckles over your nipple and hummed at the sound you made for him. 

Oscar abandoned the cloth and sank to his knees on the tiles. He swore he could smell your sweet arousal, the mouthwatering scent driving him insane as he bunched your dress up and kissed your core over the lace. The ax of time hung over your head as you all knew the dinner was about to begin but you didn’t care  the moment you looked down at Oscar’s eyes. 

“Just a quickie,” he agreed as he read your mind. Lando crushed his lips against yours as Oscar pushed your panties aside and tasted you with a languid swipe of his tongue. One boyfriend made you cry out and the other stole the sound with his kiss. Your hands tangled their hair, feeling the different textures between your fingers as you deepened the kiss and rocked your hips against Oscar’s face.

“Fuck,” Lando groaned at the pretty sight. “I’m so unbelievably hard right now.” He grabbed your hand to prove his words and you stroked his length over his trousers. “I don’t know if I want to kill Danny anymore.”

Oscar laughed against your clit and the vibration curled your toes in your heels and you cried out at the sensation. The sound cut through Lando’s amusement and his belt snapped open, his trousers falling just enough to free his cock. Your hand wrapped around him and he covered your hand with his, guiding you up and down in long slow strokes. 

“We are going to make a mess of your dress, baby,” Lando moaned as he felt his orgasm coming embarrassingly quickly thanks to the chocolate. You barely heard him as your own impending release hazed your mind but Oscar thought quick enough to pull away. Your body missed his mouth instantly but your cunt clenched at the sight of him taking Lando’s cock deep in his throat. “Fuck, Osc, that’s it, babe.”

You could hardly breathe as you watched Lando’s jaw clench and he shuddered as he spilled himself in Oscar’s mouth. Your boyfriend’s throat bounced as stood up and he swallowed the mouthful down, leaving Lando to sag against the wall while he recovered. 

“You missed a spot,” you said as you leant in and caught the drop of cum that clung to the corner of his lips. A soft hum reverberated as you shared the taste with a kiss and you pressed yourself against him to feel just how much he was feeling the drug too. “Need a hand?”

“Not quite,” he smirked, turning you around to face Lando. “Hold on.”

Lando reached out and you gripped his forearms as Oscar bundled your dress up in one hand and pushed your panties aside again with the other. He gave no warning before he sheathed himself deep inside your cunt and you buried your face in Lando’s chest with a gasp. You felt impossibly full before he snapped his hips back and then buried himself in you, over and over, an unrelenting pace that quickly brought back the edge of your orgasm.

Your cries were muffled by Lando’s dress shirt and your nails threatened to rip the expensive jacket he wore as you were rocked by your release that came so suddenly white spots danced across your vision. For a second your body was disconnected from your mind and the two only collided back together when Oscar joined you, warmth pooling in your core as he filled it with his seed. 

“Wooow,” Oscar chuckled as he pulled out and combed a hand through his hair. “That shit is strong.”

“At least we have something to take the edge off,” Lando said, before tossing the hand towel to Oscar. Oscar ran the towel under the warm tap and carefully cleaned up the mess he made before he pulled your panties back into place and let your dress fall around your unsteady legs. 

Oscar curled a brow at his boyfriend and the glint in his eye that said he expected a few more stops to this room during the night. “Let’s try to make it back to the hotel next time.”

“No promises,” he said with a wink. “Now, shall we go and sit through a bunch of old man speeches and try not to fall asleep?”

You looked down at your dress and found the wet patch had dried considerably, so much that it wouldn’t even be noticeable in the dim lights of the hall. “You still owe me a drink.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lando gave you a salute and unlocked the door, opening it to an empty corridor. “A strong one. Osc?”

“No, thank you, one of us has to be responsible.”

Lando looked at you, his lips barely suppressing the grin on his face. “He says it like he didn’t just fuck you in a bathroom.”

[starkwlkr]

fever dream | sebastian vettel

part 2 part 3

warnings: toxic soon to be ex husband who cheats on reader (if i miss anything, let me know!!)

update: i decided to make this into a series, thanks for reading!! you can read it here!

AN: THIS SAYS THAT SEB AND THE READER WERE TEAM MATES FOR 2014 AND 2015 THATS A MISTAKE SORRY I ONLY MEANT TO PUT 2014 😭

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“luke, alison! your aunt y/n is here!” your sister yelled as she opened the door to her home. in a matter of seconds, loud footsteps were heard running down the stairs. “no running!”

but still the kids didn’t listen, they were excited to see their aunt. “hey, my babies! oh my god, you two have grown so much. stop growing!” you hugged your niece and nephew.

“i’m almost as tall as mom!” alison, the younger sister, said.

“liar, that’s just what dad says to make you feel better. i’m going to grow more than you and then i’ll be taller than you.” luke teased.

“you both can be tall, but never as tall as me.” you joked as you placed a kiss on their cheeks.

“are you going to stay with us forever?” alison asked innocently. “dad said that you don’t want to stay with your husband anymore and you’re going to stay with us.”

“alison!”

the truth was hard for little kids to understand. yes, you were going to stay with your sister for a few days and yes, you didn’t want to stay with your husband anymore, but it was a bit more complicated than that. your husband had cheated, lied, manipulated you and you had enough. he was the reason you couldn’t come back to the sport you loved and worked your whole life for.

“well i am going to be staying here, but not forever. i just needed a break from him, it’s normal.” you tried to explain to the girl.

“but my mom and dad don’t take breaks?”

“alison, just go to your room, you too luke, please. dinner is going to be ready in an hour.” your sister said, feeling embarrassed that alison would ask those questions.

“what did i do?” the older boy whines as he and his sister walked up to their rooms.

“i’m sorry. i spoke to jack the night you called. we were cleaning up the table after dinner, i assume she heard.” your sister explained.

“it’s okay, they’ll understand when they’re older. not everyone is cut out to be loved . . .”

or a mother.

only a few people had known about your issues with infertility, your sister and lewis being two of them. after you retired from f1, you were sure that in a couple months, you were going to be busy with doctor’s appointments, buying baby clothes and building a crib, but none of that happened. after a year of trying, you were convinced you weren’t meant to be a mom.

you thought about returning to the track, after all many drivers returned after saying they were retiring, why couldn’t you? but that plan was spoiled by the man you thought loved you.

“you can’t go back, you don’t belong there. it’s a man’s sport. you’re probably going to crash in the first lap anyways.”

you didn’t know why you stayed with him, but you did. maybe it was the promises he kept telling you about or the hopefulness that one day you would become parents and maybe he would change. but again, none of that happened.

“um, i have to call someone. i’ll be right back. excuse me.” you told your sister as you walked to the patio door and exited the house. without hesitating, you clicked on a familiar contact. you held your phone against your ear and waited for the person on the other end to pick up. it felt like forever, but eventually they picked up the call.

“hello?”

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green - Part 13

Cass looked up as Jason came out of Danny’s room. He looked better.

After Danny had been stabilized, Cass had taken Jason away from the safe house and to Jason’s place with the gym in the basement. She knew what it was like to have that need to act— to hurt to ruin to end— burning under her skin. She gave Jason the fight that he needed, letting him punch and kick until they were both covered in bruises and he was shaking apart in her arms.

Today he looked better.

“N is going to stay with Danny,” Jason said with a little nod backwards.

Dick, Jason, Tim, and herself had all been taking turns staying with their new brother. He was sleeping a lot right then; he was waking with nightmares a lot too. Waking up with one of them touching him seemed to help him calm the quickest so they took turns staying close.

“Red?” Cass asked with a little tilt of her head.

Jason glanced at the clock on the oven as he opened the fridge. He wasn’t really hungry, but eating out of habit. “He’ll be over here in two hours, I he doesn’t get distracted.”

“Be nice. Red cares. He’ll be here,” she said.

Jason seemed to settle on something and popped the top off before throwing it in the microwave. “Yeah… yeah. Danny’s pretty much wormed his way into all of our hearts, hasn’t he?”

“Yes. Will for rest too.”

Jason snorted. “As if he already hasn’t with B. They didn’t need to meet for that. You know how the old man is, a real bleeding heart of stone.”

Cass rolled her eyes and ordered again, “Be nice.”

Jason frowned at her but she just smiled serenely back until he rolled his eyes. It was a win enough for her.

The heated food was set on a trivet between them and Jason stuck two forks in it.

“I’m thinking we get O in here in a few days,” he said around his own large bite of lasagna. “Danny is healing better this time, but we don’t know what sort of set back this will cause mentally and all. Having another set of hands would be good.”

“O will like him.”

“Course she will,” Jason said with almost a scoff.

“No O and Red,” Cass added thoughtfully after she had chewed her own bite. This was definitely Jason lasagna and not Alfred lasagna.

“Yeah… I don’t think I’m going to trust those three in a room together for a long time,” Jason said with a dawning sort of horror. “Danny took apart the remote here and now it has buttons for services I didn’t even know existed. I swear it will change shows on its own too if no one is paying attention to it. It’s useful, I guess, but a little creepy.”

“Ghost brother,” Cass said with a little shrug.

Jason’s eyes narrowed before he let out an exhausted sounding sigh. “I hate that you might be right. Our controller could be haunted now.”

“Alas poor Yorick?”

“Wrong character,” Jason said, pointing with his fork, “but that is a play with a ghost in it so good job.”

Cass smiled happily at the praise. “Once Red is here, you and me errands?”

“You just want to buy Danny another present,” Jason said, jabbing his fork in her direction.

“Yes,” she said with zero shame.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Fine, but we have to do groceries too.”

-

Babs had been warned that Danny was still very skittish, but he hadn’t actually expected him to freeze like a scared rabbit when she came into the apartment. She stopped rolling forward and moved her hands to where he could see them both clearly.

“Hi Danny,” she said with her kindest librarian voice that she had. “I’m Oracle. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Danny shook his head, the motion ran through him like a shudder and whatever had frozen him shook off him like water off a dog. His smile was still shaky though, so Babs didn’t think that whatever the reaction had been was completely done.

“Hi, Oracle.” His voice was soft, rough, a little broken.

She’d heard from a number of the bats about the latest development and the trauma that went with it, but it as still something to see someone that looked like a young Bruce covered in bandages and looking more than worse for the wear.

“Are you alright if I come in? If you aren’t, that’s alright. I’ll just talk with Nightwing in the hall for a little.”

“No, you can come in,” Danny said, sitting up a little straighter. His eyes flicked over her again. “It’s just… your hair reminded me of someone is all. No one… no one bad.”

Babs offered him a smile and came the rest of the way into the apartment. “If that changes, just let me know.”

“It’s fine, really,” Danny said, though the words were still a little bit of a whisper.

“Well then,” Dick said, interrupting the end of the oddly tense moment, “Babs, do you want any hot chocolate?”

“Thank you, but without the mountain of whip cream I know you liked to put on it,” she said, giving Dick a playful glare.

He shrugged unrepentantly. “Danny?”

“Yes please,” he said. He was fussing with the blanket he had been sitting under, folding it up just so.

Babs moved towards the kitchen to give him a little bit of space and the illusion of some privacy.

‘What was that about?’ Babs asked Dick silently through raised eye brows, a slightly twisted frown, and a subtle nod towards the living room.

‘Not a damn clue,’ is what Dick’s shrug said back.

It almost made Babs sigh.

Danny was still a complete mystery to her. While they were being good and had avoided taking blood or fingerprints from Danny, Barbara had at least been trying to find Danny’s path through the city. She’d been saying for days now that the boy was like a ghost.

She just didn’t expect that to be as literal as it was.

The nickname had lost any of its fun.

“Danny, whipped cream for you?” Dick asked.

Danny’s eyes darted from Dick to Babs.

“Oh, feel free to have it like N,” Babs said with a smile. “I just don’t have the sweet tooth that he does.”

“She never has, it’s tragic,” Dick said with a sigh as he started to warm a pot of milk. “So, whipped cream.”

“Um, yes,” Danny said.

“I will take sprinkles though,” Babs said. “Do you have the little—”

“Bats?” Dick scoffed. “Of course I have the little bats. You can’t have proper hot chocolate without the little bat sprinkles.”

“Of course not,” words serious but unable to help the little smile that she sported.

“You all really like the theme, don’t you?” Danny asked, though he was smiling too now.

“The boy in the hoddie with the Bat logo on it does not get to talk,” Dick said and tossed a large marshmallow at Danny with pin point accuracy.

Danny caught it effortlessly and started to pull it apart with a little shrug. “Hood got if for me as a present.”

“Of course he did,” Tim said as he finally emerged from wherever he had been tucked away. He handed the tablet he was carrying over to Danny before he sat down in the neighboring armchair. “He’s just trying to claim you first, as if him and I didn’t find you together.”

“Hot chocolate, Red?” Dick asked while Danny was busy looking bewildered at that.

“Sure, but add some coffee to it?” Tim asked.

“No,” Dick replied far too cheerfully. “But seriously Dandelion, a Bat logo from a Bat means something.”

Danny’s face scrunched up at that and he looked down at himself. “I don’t think… he was trying to claim me?”

Babs snorted. “Oh, trust us, he was absolutely claiming you. He probably felt that he had to do something material to even start to compete with B.B., as if he wasn’t cooking for you all the time.”

Danny stared back at her with wide blue eyes. The open surprise and desperate want was odd to see on someone that looked so much like Bruce. Damian certainly never let himself appear that way.

“And Red is already souping up your tablet, I’m assuming— though if you really want an improvement let me see it,” she continued, talking over Tim’s little snort, “and N is making you the special hot chocolate. Even Signal is thinking what he can get you and Spoiler is whining that she hasn’t met you yet.”

“She is getting so annoying,” Tim whined while Danny stuffed the shredded marshmallow in his mouth, likely to get out of saying anything. He looked more than a little teary eyed. Tim gave him the out by continuing, “We’ll have her over one morning when she’ll be tired and easily distracted by waffles. You’re not up for the full Spoiler experience yet.”

“Trust Red on that,” Dick interjected as he stirred the coco, “he dated her.”

“I don’t know what either of us were thinking,” Tim said with a sigh. “We are both way too high maintenance in different ways for it to have worked.”

“You were still waiting for you bi awakening, baby bird, you were missing out on half the options,” Dick said. He dropped one of the oversized marshmallows in each of the four mugs before pouring the scalding hot chocolate over it.

Babs left him to his sorcery and wheeled over to the couch before working her way onto it. Danny helpfully moved the blanket out of the way and then offered it back after. She draped it carefully over her legs.

“So what did Red do to your tablet?”

“I actually didn’t do anything,” Tim said, and then had to pause. “Well, not after I gave it to Danny at least. I was just making sure everything was still good. Danny’s been tinkering with it.”

Danny gave a little shrug and picked at the edge of his hoodie.

“Do you like engineering then? Or inventing?” Babs asked, trying to encourage Danny to open up a little.

“Yeah, my— I—, I mean…” Danny stumbled over his words. He lost some of his color with each false start until he was worryingly grey. He swallowed thickly. “Yeah, I used to at least.”

“Danny, hot chocolate,” Dick said with impeccable timing as always.

Danny whispered a thanks and took the almost overflowing mug. He could basically hide behind the mound of whipped cream and he definitely tried to. Babs took the offered mug with a much more modest dollop but an absurd amount of bat sprinkles. Her lips twitched up in a smile as she took a sip.

Tim’s portion was somewhere in between Bab’s and Danny and of course Dick’s was practically laughable. It’s a wonder he didn’t make an absolute mess of himself drinking it as they argued over a movie to watch. It was clever of the Bats, really, they had started to narrow down how long Danny had been a test subject by what movies he had seen or not.

It was somewhere between seventeen and twenty-three months.

Nearly two years.

They were all lucky that Danny had made it out at all. They all knew the statistics of something like that.

Hot chocolate turned into dinner turned into Danny cuddling Dick on the couch and eventually resting against Bab’s legs. A good sign about her acceptance, according to the birds.

“Oracle?”

Babs had thought that Danny was asleep. She reached out to run the tips of her fingers through his hair. The lights from the movie that was still playing glinted off her pink nails. “Yes, Danny?”

“If I asked… would you be able to find someone for me?”

She tilted her head. “The person that I remind you of?”

“Yes. Just… just so that I know she’s okay.”

“Is she in danger?”

“No, she’s not like me. She’s…” Danny cut himself off, swallowing back the words.

“But you’d still like to know.”

“Yes.”

Babs hummed. It was technically an abuse of her powers, but they were something she abused all the time. ���Yes, if you ask me to, I can find out if she’s okay.”

“Okay. I’ll… maybe I’ll ask. Thank you.”

“Of course, Danny.”

---

AN: I struggled with this chapter at first, but it was because I was jumping right to Barbara meeting Danny and not giving the others some more time to deal with the change in Danny. They still haven't really dealt with it, right now they're focused on healing and getting more help through Babs being around.

All our poor Bat's. So attached already and so traumatized.

But not as traumatized as Danny...

Stay delightful, darlings!

[forhappysake]

Late-Night Talking

Author's note: This can be read as part 2 of "Never Forget a Face," or it can be read as a stand-alone. 5k words, not proofread xoxo.

Summary: After you get to know Spencer, the team starts believing you may be more than friends. Despite pushing back against their jokes, you and Spencer quickly realize they may not be wrong.

Warnings: fem!reader, spoilers for season 12/13, mentions of typical BAU-level violence, age gap mentioned, one bed trope that i LOVE, no smut just some heavy fluff/making out at the end

“Checkmate,” Spencer said. 

You groaned. 

The soft glow of an antique lamp illuminated your surroundings. You sat cross-legged on an old leather armchair, resting your head in your hands. Spencer, across from you, looked a little too amused. The pair of you had been at this for roughly two hours. 

“I’m not sure why you decided to make that last move. If you want, I can show you some additional strategies and what I would have done in your place,” Spencer rambled. If it were any other man, you likely would have rolled your eyes and told them to shut up. Something about the way he spoke was entirely genuine, and he knew he had your best interest at heart. 

“No thanks, Spence. I think I’ve met my match for the day,” you said, rising from your seat. You stretched your arms above your head. “I could go for some coffee, though.”

He smiled as you turned to walk toward his kitchen. In the three weeks since the two of you had spent the evening talking, the two of you had only become closer. This was the third night this week that you had found yourself enjoying his company. 

“Do you want a cup?” you called behind the counter. 

It was quiet for a second, and you could imagine his eyes narrowing in thought as he weighed his options. “Sure,” he said. “Could you make it with-”

“Lots of sugar and a little bit of coffee,” you finished for him, appearing from behind the island with two cups in hand. “Here.”

Spencer thanked you, taking a small sip before setting the steaming cup on the side table. “Perfect,” he acknowledged. 

“Oh really? Maybe I should pursue a career as a barista,” you joked, whirling the mixture around in your mug with a small red stirrer. 

Spencer let out a small laugh before he grew quiet for a moment. He looked at you thoughtfully. “Not that I think you wouldn’t be good at it, but I think I - or uh - we prefer to have you on our team.”

As you opened your mouth to respond, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You set your coffee on the side table next to Spencer’s and pulled it out, unveiling Penelope’s name and face buzzing across your screen. 

“It’s Penelope,” you said. Spencer shot you a knowing look. 

You raised the phone and answered her video message request. Her face filled the screen. 

“Hello, my lovely,” she said to you in her usual bubbly manner. The bright pink bows in her hair and the way they matched what you could see of her dress made you smile. 

“Hey, Pen,” you greeted. “What’s up?”

“That’s the less lovely part,” she said, her smiling turning to a frown. “I need you in the office in an hour or less. We have a case.” 

You sighed as you shot a glance at Spencer who was staring at you from across the chess table. “Right, I’ll be there. Thanks.”

You were about to hang up when she spoke again. “Oh, wait! Y/N!”

“Yes?” you asked her, a bit confused by her sudden urgency. 

“Have you talked to Spencer? You’re the last one on my call list and I haven’t been able to get ahold of him for twenty minutes.” 

Rather than respond, you flipped the camera around to unveil Spencer sitting on the edge of the armchair. “Yeah, I think I can get ahold of him for you,” you quipped. 

Penelope gasped. “My two favorite BAU babies spending time together? Be still my speckled heart.”

Spencer groaned, looking directly at the camera. “Penelope, we’ve been over this. I’m 36. I’ve been with the team for over a decade. I’ve done time in a maximum security prison. I haven’t been a BAU ‘baby,’” he made air quotes with his hands, “for ten years.”

Penelope rolled her eyes, causing you to giggle and causing Spencer to furrow his brow. “Oh, Dr. Reid, your wit is charming but I fear you’ll always be a BAU baby in my mind.” 

Spencer huffed. 

“Regardless, it’s nice to see my babies together,” she said, her cheery disposition fading as she began clacking on her keyboard. “Anyway, I’ll see you lovebirds in an hour. Peace!”

You and Spencer had both frozen at her final statement as her face faded from the screen. Lovebirds?

In an attempt to diffuse the awkward silence that had fallen over the room, you cleared your throat. “I have to run home and grab my go-bag.” You rose and made for the door. Spencer remained seated, a perplexed look on his face. 

“I’ll see you in an hour?” you half-asked. 

Spencer snapped out of his thoughts, finally noticing that you were standing with your hand on his doorknob, ready to leave. 

“Y-yeah. Of course. See you there,” he said, offering a small yet sincere small. 

You drove home and grabbed your things, Penelope’s statement still ringing in your ears. Lovebirds. 

Sure, you enjoyed spending time with Spencer. In the month since you’d met him, you’d gotten to know him quite well. You knew how he took his coffee, what books he was working through at the moment, and how his therapy was going. However, you didn’t think that qualified you as lovebirds. 

You shook your head as you pulled into your parking spot at work. You were overthinking it. Penelope called people questionable names all the time. Just last week, the HR department was forced to give a seminar on workplace conduct after some of Penelope’s most famous lines were brought to the attention of the department. 

Spencer had leaned over to you during the presentation, nudging you with his elbow. “Last time they gave one of these, Penelope got in trouble for calling our friend ‘dark chocolate thunder,’” he whispered. You had widened your eyes at him and looked appalled as he offered a small, mischievous smile, turning back to the front.  

You paused for a moment before entering the building and thought about how that interaction had made you feel. The butterflies in your stomach took flight when he nudged your arm, the tingling sensation running through your veins as he whispered in your ear. Maybe Penelope wasn’t as far off as you thought. 

Regardless, you had a job to do. So did Spencer, for that matter. Based on the worried glances your coworkers gave you when you walked into the roundtable room, you could tell it was going to be a doozy. 

Emily and Spencer walked in moments later, taking their seats around the table. He offered you a small smile, which you kindly returned before focusing on Penelope’s presentation at the front of the room. 

Another serial killer, another flight that was going to take you across the country. 

For three days after touchdown in California, the team worked around the clock. On the third day, the team went out in pairs to keep watch over the local parks in town, from which women were being kidnapped and subsequently murdered. Emily had asked you and Spencer to stay behind at the police station in case any new developments came about.

By the time night fell, you weren’t sure when the last time you’d slept or eaten was. You were sitting on a couch in the meeting room assigned to the BAU for your time in California. You’d zoned out at the images of the victim’s bloody bodies before you on the coffee table, your eyes glazed over and bloodshot from the lack of sleep. 

When someone placed a hand on your shoulder, you jumped in surprise. 

“Just me,” Spencer said, putting one hand up in surrender. He’d walked in through the open door, you hadn’t even noticed his entrance.

You rubbed your eyes. “Sorry. What’s up? Any news?”

Spencer shook his head, sitting down next to you. He cleared his throat. “You could sleep, you know? I can always wake you if something changes.” 

You yawned. “I appreciate the offer, but don’t you think that’s unfair? You haven’t slept either.” 

He shrugged, glancing sideways at you. “I didn’t sleep for more than an hour at a time for three months of my life. This is nothing.” 

You looked at him in that moment. Truly looked at him. The small scar on the side of his neck where a few stray curls ended. The stubble on his cheek, getting longer each day you worked this case. Finally, your eyes met his. 

“Alright,” you relented. “Just promise you’ll wake me up if something changes.” 

Spencer nodded. “I’ll be right here next to the phone. Rest for a little bit.” 

Without another word, you sunk further down on the couch and laid your head back, falling into a dreamless sleep. 

SPENCER’S POV

I developed this habit of staring at clocks while I was away. Some might think that makes the time pass slower, but on the contrary, I found that the minutes flew by faster if I could zone out at something for long enough. 

I found myself practicing this same habit as the night passed. The only thing that pulled me from my daze was Y/N’s body shifting on the couch next to me. 

I turned to look at her. She rested her head on the back of the couch. Her hair had fallen haphazardly over one side of her face. The black top she wore was dangerously close to slipping off her shoulder. I leaned forward to strip off my suit jacket and gently lay it over her, the thick fabric wrinkling. As if on cue, she subconsciously pulled the jacked around her figure, burying her face in the material. 

I felt my heart warm at the sight and bit back a smile. She was still too innocent for the job. Probably too innocent for this world, frankly. But the pleasure of getting to know her had made Emily’s decision to place her on the team a no-brainer. She was, by all intents and purposes, a ray of sunshine. 

“You two look cozy,” Luke spoke from the doorway. 

My eyes shot up to face him. I tried to act casual like I wasn’t just oogling over my coworker.  “Oh. Yeah, she is.” 

Luke rolled his eyes. “Jig’s up, Reid,” he started, leaning against the doorway. “You’ve been looking at her like that for weeks. Why don’t you just ask her on a date?” 

I cringed. “Why does everyone keep insinuating that we’re somehow romantically involved?”

“Well let’s see,” Luke held up his fingers to count as he spoke. “You guys talk to each other like, all the time.” One. “You didn’t tell her to move when she accidentally sat in your seat at the conference table.” Two. “I know for a fact that she’s been out with you at least three nights a week, hence why she didn’t come out with Garcia and me last weekend.” Three. “You actually laugh when she tells you a joke.” Four. “You keep staring at her-”

“Alright, I get it,” I interrupted, holding up a hand to quiet him. I sighed. “You’ve forgotten some pretty important details in your explanation.” 

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Like what?” 

It was my turn to do the counting. “She’s roughly eight years younger than I am. I haven’t the faintest clue if she’s seeing anyone. She’s only known me for a month and she happens to know about… my history.” Luke glanced up at me, a touch of sympathy in his gaze. “Prison time is not exactly a turn-on to most women,” I admitted. 

Luke took a deep breath. “Well, I hope it works out however you want it to, Reid. I can say this for sure, I haven’t seen you this happy in a year.” 

I watched him begin to walk away before he turned to look back over his shoulder. “By the way, we caught the guy. Wheels-up in thirty.” 

With that utterance, he was gone. 

READER’S POV

The next thing you remembered was Spencer gently shaking your shoulder. “Y/N,” he said your name quietly. 

You rolled over, groggy as you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself. “Yeah, what’s up, Spence?” 

“The case is closed. We’re going to get ready to go home.” 

Your eyes shot open. “Really? I can’t believe we missed it,” you said, sounding somewhat disappointed. 

Spencer shrugged. “I think I would prefer the comfort of this place than being out there.” He pointed out the window where a steady rain had begun falling over the parking lot.

You groaned, peeling the blanket off your body. It was just then that you realized it wasn’t a blanket, but Spencer’s jacket. 

“Oh. Uh. Here you go,” you offered it back to him. 

Spencer took it from you, immediately beginning to overexplain himself. “Sorry, I just thought you looked kind of cold and your shirt was hanging off your shoulder so I thought it would be better if I-”

“Spencer,” you cut him off. “I was just going to say thank you.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah. Of course. Sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing. Let’s just get out of here and back home.” You offered him a warm smile, reassurance that he hadn’t overstepped your boundaries. 

You found it quite endearing, actually- him having covered you up. When he smiled back, your stomach did a backflip. God, you were screwed. 

The two of you hurriedly packed up the files strewn about the precinct and drove back to the hotel. The flight home was relatively uneventful. You did, however, notice Luke giving you one of his mischievous smiles. Halfway through the flight, you couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Luke, what is your deal?” you asked quietly not to wake JJ, seated next to you. Spencer, who sat across from the table on the jet’s couch, sneaked a glance up from his book, slyly listening in to the conversation you’d started. 

“Did you have a nice nap earlier this evening, Y/N?” Luke asked jokingly. 

You rolled your eyes. “As a matter of fact, I did. Why are you asking?” 

Luke glanced over at Spencer. “I saw loverboy went out of his way to keep you warm.”

It was your turn to glance at Spencer, whose cheeks were turning pink as his lips pressed into a thin line. He looked back down at his book, acting as though he wasn’t listening. 

You leaned forward across the table. “Look, Luke. I’m not sure what delusions Penelope is feeding you, but Spencer and I are just friends. Just like me and you. Just like me and everyone on this team.”

“Uh huh,” Luke said, unconvinced. He popped a piece of candy into his mouth. “When’s the last time you spent three evenings at my apartment?” 

“Maybe I would spent three evenings at your apartment if you were intelligent and mature enough to keep up an adult conversation,” you shot back. 

Luke raised his eyebrows. “Touched a nerve there, did I?” he joked. 

“It isn’t funny, Luke,” you scolded. “And for that matter, I happen to be seeing someone.” 

That caught everyone’s attention. You saw Spencer twitch out of the corner of your eye, his brow furrowing has his grip on the book in his hands became firmer. Luke laughed. 

“You have been going out with someone?” he asked, somewhat incredulously. 

You took offense to his reaction. “Why is that so hard to believe?” 

Luke shrugged. “I don’t know. I just hadn’t heard about this before.”

“Well, I don’t exactly go out of my way to talk about my personal life. Now if you’ll excuse me,” you tapped the empty coffee cup in your hands. “I need to replenish my supply.” 

You made your way to the back of the jet. Seeing the coffee pot empty, you began the task of brewing more. 

“Was that true?” Spencer asked from behind you. 

“Jesus,” you said, trying not to jump out of your skin, “You’ve really got to quit sneaking up on me like that.” 

“Sorry.” He stood awkwardly in the doorway, blocking your view of the rest of the jet. “But was it true?”

“Which part?” you challenged, watching the dark liquid fill the pot.

“The part about you seeing someone.” 

Your cheeks reddened. “No. It wasn’t true. I just wanted to get Luke off my back,” you admitted. 

Spencer sighed what almost sounded like a sigh of relief. “Was the rest of it true?” he continued. 

“What do you mean?” You looked at him, genuinely confused as to what he was referencing.

Spencer took a step closer to you, and you could feel the heat coming off his body as he looked down at you. He lowered his voice to a near whisper, “The part about us just being friends.” 

Oh. 

“Well, I- you know we haven’t really ever discussed if we would even… I- I don’t know,” you stuttered. 

Spencer nodded and the serious expression on his face faded to his normal friendly facade. “Right. I just wanted to check,” he said casually before making his way back to his seat. 

You were in shock regarding the conversation that had just occurred and remained that way for the rest of the flight. You found yourself glancing at Spencer often and occasionally, you’d catch him looking at you too.

You put your headphones in, in an attempt to take your mind off of it. The reprieve of the music in your ears was short-lived as JJ nudged your shoulder. “Did you hear Emily?” she asked. 

“What? No, what did I miss?” you looked around, confused, before Emily appeared beside you. 

“Sorry, I should’ve checked to make sure everyone could hear me,” she apologized. “Change of plans. We’re stopping in Tennessee. I just got a call from an old colleague. They need some help.”

You tried to hide your disappointment. All you wanted to do was get home to go to bed. Not to mention, you needed time to think over this whole Spencer thing. However, it was clear that wasn’t going to happen. 

Two hours later, you were on the ground in Nashville. 

The team stumbled into a hotel lobby. It was 2 a.m. You could tell you all looked terrible, and you weren’t sure you all smelled much better.

“Alright,” Emily said, coming back from the check-in counter. “Here’s the deal. Since I booked last minute, I could only get four rooms. We’re going to have to double up.” 

You watched as pairs were quickly formed. JJ and Emily stepped to one side. Tara and Luke to another. Rossi and Matt even joined up. You and Spencer stood awkwardly next to each other. 

“Right, well, here are your keys,” she handed you the room keys for yourself and Spencer. You sighed and took off for the elevator, Spencer in tow. 

The elevator ride and walk to the room passed without a word. When you stepped into the hotel room, you immediately flopped your bags on the ground and dropped to the floor. 

For the first time in two hours, Spencer spoke. “What are you doing?” 

You didn’t get up, still lying prone on the floor. “Relaxing.”

“Do you know how many germs are on the floor of a hotel room? If I had to estimate, based on research-”

“Spence, please,” you cut him off, “I’m getting up, I’m getting up.” You rolled over and sat up, looking up at him. 

It was also the first real glimpse you’d caught of the room since arriving, and you felt your stomach drop when you grasped one key detail. 

There was only one bed. 

Oh. Oh. 

Spencer followed your eyes to the single bed. “Don’t worry, I’ll sleep on the floor,” he said sincerely. 

You scoffed. “Spencer, that’s ridiculous. You’ve told me time and time again how your back bothers you because of these terrible hotel beds. I can’t imagine what state sleeping on the floor would leave you in. I’ll do it.” 

He shook his head. “I would never expect you to do that.”

“I know." you weighed your words carefully. “We can share the bed, you know? It won’t be a big deal. As long as you’re comfortable with it, of course.”

Spencer looked between you and the bed for a moment. “Okay,” he said simply, throwing his bag on the ground. “Do you prefer a certain side?” 

You hummed, standing up from the floor. “Do I want the slide closer to the AC or the side closer to the window?”

Spencer smiled, raising his eyebrows. “These are some tough decisions.”

You nodded. “I’ll take the window. You can have the vent.” 

“How thoughtful,” he quipped. 

You bent over and began going through your bag. “You can go ahead and shower first, Spence.”

He nodded. “Alright, I’ll be quick.” 

Grabbing his bag, he disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door. You heard the click of the lock and sighed in a mix of relief and disappointment. He hadn’t brought up your previous conversation. Maybe he hadn’t meant it or maybe he meant it differently than you interpreted.

Pulling your pajamas from your bag, you resigned yourself to sit on the edge of the bed and wait. Minutes later, Spencer reappeared. His hair, slightly damp, hung down over his eyes. He wore a pair of plaid pajama pants and a loose t-shirt that clung nicely to his biceps. 

He looked good. Really good. 

You were lucky you didn’t start drooling right there. Spencer caught your gaze. “Is there something on my shirt?” he asked seriously. 

You shook your head, averting your eyes. “No! I mean - no. Not at all. I’m just tired.” You stood up from the bed and without another word, shut yourself in the bathroom in an attempt to get yourself under control. 

SPENCER’S POV

It had been five minutes and seventeen seconds since Y/N went to take a shower. I laid back on the bed, head propped up by some pillows, and thought as the time passed. 

It had been five minutes and forty-five seconds of me thinking about how to approach this conversation with her. 

I knew after our exchange on the plane that I’d have to come to terms with my feelings eventually. Even if I’d only known her for a month, I couldn’t help but gravitate towards her. I loved her smile, the way she laughed at my jokes, and how she genuinely listened when I talked. 

Most of all, I was starting to think I loved her. 

When I heard the bathroom door open, I tried to be nonchalant. I reached for my book on the side table and quickly began reading through it, flipping pages as I finished them. I felt a dip in the bed and saw her sit on the edge out of my periphery. 

She was slipping her socks on, facing away from me, her damp her hanging loosely in front of her face. I wanted to do nothing more than tuck it behind her ear and kiss her right then and there. 

I had to be logical, I told myself. I shook the thoughts away and tried to focus on the book in my hands. 

READER’S POV

Spencer didn’t speak to you when you came out from the shower, offering only a glance and a small smile as he skimmed through the book in his hands. After slipping on your socks, you tucked yourself under the covers next to him, turning off the light next to your side of the bed. 

It was silent for a moment before you heard his book thud down on the side table. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, flipping the lamp off.

“Night, Spence,” you said back. You rolled to your side so your back was to him, trying to minimize the amount of space you took up in the bed. 

The two of you stayed that way for twenty minutes. You breathed slowly, trying not to think about the man in the bed next to you. Just when you thought you may have relaxed enough to drift off to sleep, the lamp next to Spencer’s side of the bed flipped on.

You kept your eyes shut, pretending to be asleep as you felt him shift in the bed. You wondered if he was just restless, struggling to wind down after working so many cases back to back. Seconds later, he spoke.

“I know you’re awake. I think we should talk,” he said quietly. 

Your eyes shot open. You rolled over to face him, trying to remain calm. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

“Let’s play a game,” he suggested. Your eyebrows shot up. You did enjoy a good competition. “I’ll ask you a question, you ask me a question. How does that sound?” Spencer asked. 

You searched his eyes for any hint of mischief but found none. Who were you to say no? You sat up in the bed, crisscrossing your legs as you faced him. 

“Shoot,” you challenged him. 

“Does it bother you when the team suggests we’re romantically involved?” 

You hadn’t quite expected that one. You looked around the room, taking a deep breath as you pondered. “Not as much as it probably should. Does it bother you?” you countered. 

Spencer shook his head. “Only when I thought it made you uncomfortable. Now that I know it doesn’t, no.” He paused for a second, narrowing his eyes at you as he tried to pick out his next question. 

During this lull, you reached for your water bottle on the side table and took a quick drink. “Do you find me attractive?” he asked. 

You nearly spit out your water. 

You sat up a bit straighter, trying not to let him see just how attractive you thought he was. “Well… that’s quite a direct question. But, yeah. Yeah, I think you’re attractive.” 

Spencer nodded, satisfied, though he didn’t look smug. Just content. 

“Do you think I’m attractive?” you asked. 

Spencer glanced up at you, his hands folding and unfolding in his lap as he tapped the tips of his fingers against his thigh. “Very,” he admitted. 

The two of you were quiet once more, not sure what to do with this newfound information. 

Spencer cleared his throat and you could hear the doubt and concern seeping into his voice when he spoke again. “Does it bother you that I’m older than you are?” 

You figured that was coming. “No. You’ve never made me feel younger or dumber for it. I often forget we aren’t the same age.” You shrugged before continuing. “Does it bother you that I’m younger?”

Spencer thought for a moment. “No, it doesn’t bother me. I was just afraid you’d think I was strange for finding you attractive since you are younger than I am.” 

You laughed. “Spencer, I find you strange for many reasons, but our age difference is not one of them.” 

Spencer smiled shyly at you. He seemed to appreciate the endearing way you used the word “strange” to describe him.

“Can-” he stuttered for a moment, you could tell he was nervous about his next question. He took a breath, building confidence. “Can I kiss you?” 

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes widening immediately. He turned a bright shade of crimson, his confidence seemingly wavering. “You can say no, of course. I’m sorry if I made this weird, I just thought-”

“You can kiss me,” you interjected. He looked at you, his crimson blush fading away but his eyes still uncertain. “I’d like for you to, actually,” you reassured. 

Spencer sat up straighter on the bed, his earlier expression gone serious as he moved closer to you. He gently placed one hand on your cheek, holding you in place as his lips met yours. 

His lips were soft. In fact, everything he was doing was soft. The way he gently cupped your face, the way his other hand had come up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the way his mouth moved against yours. His tongue probed your mouth open, a small moan eliciting from him when you allowed him access. 

The tenderness disappeared quickly as he kissed you with more urgency. The two of you fell back on the bed like teenagers. 

His hands moved from your face to your waist, holding you firmly against him. You tested the waters by moving your hands up his back and into his hair, earning a sigh of approval on his part. 

You slipped a hand under the front of his shirt, trailing your fingers across his chest. He pulled away from you, gently grabbing your hand.

“Too far?” you asked in a small panic, quickly withdrawing your hand from under the fabric of his shirt.

“Not at all,” he shook his head sincerely. “I just don’t want to get carried away.” 

Spencer sat up, his hand on your waist bringing you up with him. You both leaned back against the bed, your head resting on his chest. 

“I want to do everything with you,” he said lowly. You could feel his voice rumble through his chest as he spoke. “I want to do all of this and more. However, I do believe you deserve more than some random hotel with the guy who has only known you for a month.” 

“You're not a random guy," you corrected. You were a bit disappointed, but you understood and appreciated his sentiment. It was silent for a moment. "So where do we go from here?” you asked, genuinely curious. 

Spencer smiled, wrapping his arm tighter around your waist. “I think I should start by asking you on a date. How do you feel about Vietnamese food?” 

You raised an eyebrow, looking up at him. “You know I am very passionate about pho,” you joked. 

“Yeah,” he rested his chin on the top of your head, “How about when we get back, we go out on a real date, in a real restaurant that isn’t my apartment, and we make this something real?”

You lifted your head up to meet his gaze at eye level. “I’d love to,” you said with a smile. “On one condition,” you added. 

It was his turn to act surprised. “What’s that?” 

“That you don’t refrain from kissing me until then. I do enjoy being close to you,” you answered. 

Spencer grinned at you. His arm around your waist pulled you in for a soft kiss on the lips. After a moment, he pulled away. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he answered.

You laid your head back on his chest as he flicked off the side table lamp, the two of you quickly falling asleep wrapped in each others' arms.